I Did Not Sign Up For This
by IndigoBlueButterfly
Summary: Pop ups are bad. They crowd your computer and, if you accidentally click on one, you get a virus or, in my case, a bunch of really hot Hetalia units that are pretty much here to stay and cause hilarity and chaos for me and my twin. I did not sign up for this shit.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't Click Random Pop-Ups**

**~*~Alexandra~*~**

I twisted around and propped my chin on my hands while I continued scrolling through the Hetalia fanfiction page. I was bored. So bored. I was bored while online, which was odd but there you go. My tumblr page was open, as was my e-mail account and several other miscellaneous sites that were mostly random pop-ups or cookies that I hadn't bothered to close.

I was actually supposed to be writing a five-page report on mitosis and meiosis for my biology course, but I had gotten bored after the first page and had started checking my fanfiction account to see if any of my favourite stories had been updated recently.

_Ugh, I cannot do this all night,_ I groaned and glanced at the clock on my laptop. _It's past 11, I should probably turn off my laptop and go to sleep._

Oh yeah, you have no idea who I am, do you? Well, my name is Alexandra Clare, age 18, currently in college and working. I lived with my twin brother, Eric, in a relatively large house given to us by our grandfather in his will. The house was actually near our college, and was rather large for two just-legal kids.

The plumbing was a bit whack, but Eric and I had been trained in the skilled art of DIY by our dad. The two of them believed that, female or not, I should be able to do basic tinkering at the very least. I can work a car engine, change motor oil, light bulbs and other stuff. Due to that, it didn't take too long or too much to fix everything up again. Yay for DIY skills!

I yawned. The door of my room opened and Eric walked in holding two mugs of hot chocolate. As my twin, he understands our shared love for chocolate in any form. He and I look a lot alike. We both have curly black-brown, dark brown skin, and coffee brown eyes with flecks of gold. We look like male and female versions of each other. If I was about a foot taller, and more muscular, and if he had way more hair, then we would look pretty much the same.

As it is, I'm stuck at five ft five, but at least I'm cute. "Here you go, darling," Eric climbed on my bed and passed over my mug. It was my favourite mug, the black one with the dark pink hearts all over it. I pulled a face at the endearment. He calls every female in his life that, except our mother. The first time he tried it she stared at him with such a deadpan expression that he had to withdraw it.

"Thanks Eric," I took a sip of my chocolate, and then squealed quietly when he suddenly leaned over me and stared at my laptop screen. "Could you not?" I demanded. "I am not a pillow!"

"Aw, but my baby sister is so soft!" He snickered at me.

"I'm your _twin_," I rolled my eyes. "We were born at the same time, you idiot." Oh for the days when I could actually cream him in a fight. Now I can only rely on grown nails, pinches and dirty tricks to win fights, and I love him too much to do anything too bad to him. "So whatcha doing?"

"Shutting down," I closed my fanfiction and tumblr pages, and began closing the million-and-one pop-up ads that managed to crop up whenever I opened the site that I normally used to watch anime. Eric and I read the claims on the ads curiously, even though we would never click one (except for kicks), we wanted to see what sort of weird claims people tried to use to lure people.

_I won a million dollars in some random lottery? Awesome._Close.

_I can make $3000 in one month just by clicking this ad? Nice._Close.

_New health tip to lose twenty pounds in just a week? Brilliant._ Close.

_Win free Hetalia Units?_ _Great, wait, what!?_ I paused with my mouse hovering over the tempting offer. It was a cute pink and yellow banner, with an image of Chibitalia and chibi Germany and Japan on the front. I read the words next to them curiously. _Congratulations, you are our 100th__visitor and have won Hetalia Units! Click here to claim your reward!_

"Oh look," Eric said. "It's that weird, historical anime show you like so much."

"Hetalia," I told him crisply. "It's called Hetalia."

"Yeah, yeah," he smirked. I rolled my eyes, and then cocked my head to the side as I stared at the ad on the screen. On the one hand, most of these things were hoaxes and I could be giving these people access to my computer among other things. On the other hand, it had Hetalia on the front. I _loved_Hetalia! And besides, how many hackers used anime to lure people anyway? Not that many, I bet.

_Still,_ I figured. _Better safe than sorry._I clicked the 'x' in the corner to close the window. Instead, a tiny image of an envelope being carried by a small Flying Mint Bunny appeared and the words: _Thank you for accepting this unique offer. Your free Hetalia units will be chosen randomly and shipped to you within three to five business days!_

"Wait, what did you do?" Eric stared at me with wide eyes.

"I don't know! I clicked the x, I swear I did!"

There was some small print at the bottom that I couldn't have read, even with the eyesight of an eagle, but that wasn't important. _What did I just do? I clicked no you bastards!_ Ah well, at least they were free and my computer didn't seem to be acting up in any way. I sighed and shut down the machine.

"This is going to come back to bite us in the butt, isn't it?" Eric stared at me.

"Most likely," I agreed. "Now, get out of my room. I want to sleep, and you're messing up my feng shui."

"How dare you? My very presence makes your room ten times more awesome!" He sounded like a very familiar character right now. I threw my pillow at him, and he caught it. "I'm taking this!"

"No, that's my favourite mochi pillow!" I whined, but I was too tired to actually get up and fight for it. Luckily, Eric took pity on me and threw it back to me, whereupon I began to cuddle it. "Thank you! Goodnight Eric!"

"Goodnight Allie!"

_Oh well,_ I figured as I closed my eyes._What's the worst that could happen?_

**A 3 Day Time Skip brought to you by Flying Mint Bunny Corporation!**

I was in the kitchen trying to cook breakfast for Eric and myself, and simultaneously jot down points for my biology report in my notebook. I twirled my pen in one hand, while keeping an eye on the bacon I was making.

Bacon, if you must know, is my life and my comfort food. Did you know that it has the same addictive properties as crack? It is the stuff of gods, and probably what all pigs aspire to be (apart from, you know, being dead). Eric can't cook worth shit, so I do all the cooking, and he does the washing up. It's the deal we have, and he has to agree otherwise he would starve to death.

I'd already made three bacon and cheese sandwiches for myself, and I was making more bacon and some sausages for Eric. As I stood up to turn off the stove, I heard the doorbell ring. I frowned in confusion. It was way too early for guests, unless it was one of his friends come to drag him out for the day. They did that a lot, although when Eric came back from their last outing he looked pissed off and he wouldn't tell me what had happened.

Occasionally, one of his friends (usually Charles) would try flirting with me but I would shoot them down like a bison during hunting season.

At any rate, it wasn't any of his friends at any rate. Instead, it was some delivery guy. He was dressed in a green uniform with a logo of a familiar-looking Flying Mint Bunny on the left side. He also had a Flying Mint Bunny hat, which I would have stared at had I not been staring at the huge crate beside him.

I stared at it blankly, and then I stared at him. "Um, I'm sorry, but what the hell is that?" I pointed at it.

He grinned cheerfully. "I'm Shawn. Are you Miss. Alexandra Clare?" I nodded warily. "This is your new Hetalia unit, courtesy of Flying Mint Bunny Corporations," he handed me one of those electronic…signing…thingies, which I signed in a loose scrawl. "Would you like me to wheel it inside for you?" I nodded dumbly, and stepped back as he wheeled the crate into the house.

_It's big enough to hold a person!_I marvelled as I followed him into the house. _Wait, it's not a person is it? Because isn't human trafficking illegal?_

"Here, this comes with each unit. Read it carefully, you'll need it for this one," he then handed me a brown manila envelope. "Well then, I'll see you in a few days when your next unit comes! In the meantime, good luck and try not to die!"

"Try not to whatnow? Oi, Shawn, Shawn wait! Explain this!" He never once looked back. He got into the truck (which had a giant, plastic Flying Mint Bunny on the top) and drove away. I half expected the wings on the thing to start flapping and for the whole truck to just sort of fly away into the sun.

Instead, of course, the truck just kept driving until I couldn't see it anymore.

Once he had gone, I turned and stared at the box. "Ugh, useless mail service," I grumbled and opened the envelope. Inside was a small, star-spangled booklet with the words _Hetalia Unit Manual_ printed on the cover. "Now, what the hell is this?" I opened the manual curiously.

_Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of an ALFRED F. JONES Hetalia Unit!_

I blinked at the booklet several times, and then looked back at the box, and then I looked back at the manual in my hands. As calm as I looked on the outside, on the inside I was actually panicking because, _holy frick-frack that shit was real. THAT SHIT WAS FUCKING REAL! And I just ordered America and HOW THE HELL DOES SHIT LIKE THIS HAPPEN? I'M A somewhat NORMAL PERSON!_

Once I was done freaking out internally, I sighed and stared at the crate. _Well, I can't just leave this thing in the middle of the room._I opened the manual and read through it curiously.

As I was reading, Eric came downstairs with half-smoothened bed hair. He must have gone to the kitchen first because he was holding one of the slices of buttered toast in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other. "Good morning Allie!" He walked into the front room when he saw me, and then he stared at the giant crate standing right there. "Uh…okay…what is that and why is it in the house?" He pointed at it.

"I think this may be one of the Hetalia units from that ad I clicked on," I went back to reading the manual. "According to this, we got America."

Eric cocked his head to the side. "Is that good or bad?"

"Well, it's both, really," I turned a page. "You should probably go bathe and stuff. You look like a homeless troll." I ignored the look of mock hurt on his face and finished reading the manual.

"So, there's an actual person in there?" Eric asked after his usual ten second shower time. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Maybe that's why they decided to send them to us," I sweatdropped as I stared at the crate hard. "At any rate, we have to wake him up now. We can," I consulted the manual page. "Play the national anthem, but apparently his singing sucks. We can put on a superhero show, but I don't know if any are showing this morning. Neither of us can do a proper English accent, and I don't want him act mean to me. I also don't want to be insulted by the alien."

"The what?"

"You should have watched all those Hetalia episodes I showed you," I sighed. "Well, let's see if any superhero movies are showing!" I skipped over to the TV and turned to Cartoon Network. "YAS, BATMAN BRAVE AND THE BOLD!" I loved that show! I forgot about what we were supposed to be doing and arranged myself on the couch to watch Batman take down the Joker (who is really my favourite DC villain).

Suddenly…

_BOOM!_"IS THAT HEROICNESS I HEAR?" Eric yelped and ducked out of the way just in time as the crate exploded, literally _exploded_ right in front of us, sending shards of wood and glass flying in all directions. Luckily nothing was broken, as there wasn't much in there anyway. We had only just moved in a few weeks ago. "SWEET, BATMAN!"

There, right in front of me, was a genuine America lookalike. It looked exactly like him, from the obnoxious but ultimately heart-warming grin, to the strange curl of hair that was supposed to represent Nevada or something.

Without waiting for introductions, or for me to say anything, he vaulted himself over the back of the couch and landed beside me. "Oh, hi there!" He beamed at me cheerfully. "I'm Alfred, the HERO!" He punched a fist into the air. "What's your name?"

I was still a bit rattled from the explosion, the sight, and the fact that his jumping on the chair had caused me to bounce half a foot into the air. It took me a few seconds to answer him. "Uh…I'm Alexandra, but you can call me Alex or Allie…"

"No he can't!" Eric suddenly tackled me in a huge hug, and glared at Alfred. "As her twin and only brother, only _I_ get to call Allie that! You are not that special to my sister!"

Alfred blinked, clearly confused. I sweatdropped and pointed to Eric. "This is my twin brother, Eric, being overprotective and weird," I introduced. "Eric, Alfred. Alfred, Eric. Yay, now you know each other and Eric can let go of my head now."

"But Allie..." he whined.

"_Now_. I can't breathe properly." He released my head and I gasped for air. "Okay, I made coffee, eggs, bacon and sausages, along with a shitload of toast. Who's hungry?"

"ME!"

"THE HERO!" They both dashed out of the room in the direction of the kitchen. Distracting Eric with food has always worked, and I was glad to know that it worked on Alfred too. While they were raiding the table (thank God I'd eaten earlier) I went to look at the remains for the crate for Alfred's stuff. I found the box with his clothes, the McDonald's gift card (which was really going to come in handy) and Tony.

I stared at the alien, and it stared back at me. And then it spoke. "Bitch."

"I'm glad you know," I picked up the pieces of crate and tossed them outside to be thrown into the garbage later. "Go do your shit elsewhere," I waved a hand at the alien and went to meet my sibling and new...uh..._houseguest_ in the kitchen.

When I walked in, they were both fighting over the last bit of bacon on the plate. "It's my house!"

"I'm the hero!"

"My sister made it!"

I watched them bicker for a moment, and then walked in, picked up the plate of bacon, and ate it. "There," I smiled at them. "Problem solved. Alfred, do you want to pick a room now or should we go back and see if there's going to be another Batman episode?"

"WHOO! BATMAN!" So I suppose I had my answer. Eric frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but then his phone began to ring and he flipped it out to answer it. "Hey, you know," Alfred grinned at me happily. "Since I'm the hero, you can be my super-cute sidekick and help me fight bad guys and stuff! 'Cause that's what heroes do!"

_Super-cute?_ "Yay I get to be a sidekick!" I held up my hand for a high-five, which was both a painful and exhilarating experience. "Do we get costumes and a lair?"

"HECK YEAH!" America shouted, and we both punched the air excitedly.

"WILL YOU BOTH SHUT UP!?" Eric yelled at us. "Ugh..." he snapped his phone shut and groaned. "Apparently Derrick spent the night in jail and I have to go pick him up," he grabbed the keys of the car, which was a small blue jeep in slightly-used condition. "I should be back soon. You sure you'll be alright with…him?"

I sweatdropped at the way he eyed Alfred, like the guy was a rapist or something. He really should have watched all those Hetalia episodes I gave him. Alfred would never do anything like that, unless I accidentally knocked him into _Cracked_ or _Postal_ mode.

I waved a hand at him. "Yeah, Alfred and I will be fine. We'll watch cartoons and run around the house wearing capes and acting like dorks. Go bail out Daniel."

"Derrick."

"I don't care about your friends," I smirked. "Be safe! Don't let them detain you for something stupid!"

Eric sighed, and then leaned forwards and kissed me on the forehead. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be back soon Allie. _You_," he glared at Alfred and made the universal _I'm-watching-you_ sign. "Take care of my baby sister. If I come home and she has so much as a _scratch_ on her, I will kill you."

Alfred saluted with a wide grin. "Leave it to the hero!" A few minutes later, the car rumbled away down the streets. "Your brother's cool," he remarked, jumping to sit beside me again. The TV was now showing something about the _Fantastic Four_. DC was all good, but Marvel was the shit and would always be the shit for me.

"Yeah," I told him. "You know we're actually twins, right? He just likes to call me his baby sister because he was born ten minutes before I was."

"Whoa, you're twins?" America stared at me. "Everyone always thinks my bro and I are twins."

True. In nearly every fanfic I have ever read, Alfred and Canada are always described as being twins. But Canada's birthday was a good three days before America's, or was it different for countries? I don't know. "So what's your brother like?" I asked, even though I already knew. I wanted to see what Alfred thought of him.

"He's pretty cool," America said. "But he isn't as heroic as I am!" He was like Gilbert, only with the words 'hero' and 'heroic' in the place of 'awesome'. Ah well, America was better than the BTT at the moment. Eric would _never _have agreed to leave me alone with any of them. Except Spain. Maybe.

We spent about an hour watching superhero/superpower-themed cartoons, and then we played Mario Kart for another hour. "HOW THE ACTUAL HELL ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS?" I yelled at the screen as he won for what had to be the fifth time in a row. "I KICK ERIC'S ASS IN THIS GAME!"

"IT'S BECAUSE I'M THE HERO!" America crowed as the words _You Win_ flashed on his side of the screen for the fifth time. "AND HERO'S ALWAYS WIN! Besides," he smirked and poked my forehead. "The hero always has to be better than the sidekick. It's the rule."

I pouted and tried to bite his finger, but he whipped it away quickly. "Stupid rule," I threw my pad at him, and it nailed him right in the chest. I giggled when he pretended to fall over like I'd shot him. "It's almost lunchtime," I noted. "What do you want to eat?"

He sat up immediately. "McDonald's!"

I shot him down immediately. "No."

"But _whhhhyyyy?_"

"Because it is unhealthy, and will probably give you heart disease and thrombosis."

"Psh, I'm the hero! I'M TOO HEROIC FOR HEART WHATDJAMACALLIT!" I sweatdropped because now he was standing on the sofa and doing a superhero-like pose. "Please Alex? Pretty please? I'll upgrade you to super sidekick!"

I snickered. "Tempting, but no. Besides, Eric is going to come back soon anyway, so I'll make steamed rice and chicken sauce." America pouted like a five year old that had been denied a lollipop. _Aw, so cute._"How about I give you your McDonald's gift card and you get as much as you want tomorrow, okay?" I said to placate him.

He cheered up instantly. "OKAY!"

I left him playing _Into the Dead_on my iPad and made my way to the kitchen to get started on dinner. By the time my twin was back, at around 6: 30 p.m., from bailing out whatever felon-friend he had gone to bail out (it had taken longer than expected), the rice was ready and America and I were debating on movies to watch.

Right now, it was a choice between _Final Destination 2,_ _The Ring_ and _The Grudge_. America was for _Final Destination 2_ while I was rooting for _The Ring_. "Allie, you hate horror movies," Eric pointed out.

"Yes, in fact I do," I nodded. "So that's why I want to _The Ring_, because I already know how it ends and there'll be no surprises to scare me." After all, the real root of terror is fear of the unexpected.

"The hero never gets scared!" America grinned down at me. "Don't worry super-cute sidekick, I'll protect you from any ghosts and stuff that attack you!"

_You're cute._I smiled at him, but then Eric suddenly jumped in front of me. "Since when do you call my baby sister cute? You don't get call her cute! If anyone's protecting her, it'll be me!" I sweatdropped at him. _I'm just gonna ignore the pointless show of testosterone and put in the movie._ I popped in _The Ring_and settled down between them with my bowl of rice and a large blanket.

About halfway through the movie, Eric had fallen asleep. He had watched the movie several times already anyway. I was still wide awake, and I could feel someone shaking next to me. "Uh…Alfred?" I stared at him curiously. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm totally fine!" His voice sounded rushed and abnormally high-pitched. The movie got to the part where the girl was climbing out of the TV and I suddenly felt part of my blanket shift away from me. America was using part of my blanket to hide his face, only leaving a small gap for his eyes.

I smiled slightly, remembering the manual. America was deathly afraid of supernatural horror movies, especially those made in Japan. It was cute that he was trying so hard to act like he wasn't completely terrified out of his wits.

When a scene with a jumpscare came on, America yelped and buried his face in my mass of hair. I could feel him breathing heavily, almost as if he was hyperventilating. Finally, the movie ended. Alfred was shaking pretty badly, but he still managed to grin quite widely and pretend like he was fine. Eric washed up, although he tried pretty hard to get out of it, while I went up to bed and snuggled under my mochi pillows.

I let my mind wander a bit as I tried to fall asleep. I wondered how my parents were doing now that they had the house to themselves, I agonised briefly about my biology report, and then I thought about our new housemate and his origins. _I should probably find out more about that..._

Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard the door of my room creak open slowly. I groaned and rolled over so I was facing away from the door. "Eric, what do you want now?" I smooshed my face into my pillow.

"Uh...Alex?" I blinked and rolled over again. Alfred was standing in my doorway with a pillow and blanket. He was wearing one of Eric's old shirts, and a pair of boxers.

"Alfred?" I stared at him curiously. "What's wrong?"

"No," he rubbed the back of his head nervously. "I just wanted to know if I could sleep here tonight! Since that movie probably freaked you out, I figured I'd be your hero and protect you!"

_He's such a dork it's adorable_. I find many things adorable. I fear for when Italy gets here, I probably won't let him out of my sight. Out loud I said: "Well...okay, just for tonight I guess..."

America grinned widely. "Sweet!" He hopped onto the space beside me on my bed. I scooted a bit more to make space for him, and closed my eyes. A minute later, America flopped down beside me. "'Night sidekick!"

"Goodnight hero."

I had never shared a bed with a guy before, other than Eric, and I found it odd that I didn't really feel too awkward about it. Alfred seemed like a blonde, more hyperactive version of Eric, but with a hero-complex.

My last coherent thought before I fell asleep was: _Eric is going to flip when he sees this._


	2. Pasta Chef

**America is a cute dork, isn't he? I don't own Hetalia! All manuals are owned either by LolliDictator or 0ptimusPenguin.**

**Pasta Chef**

I was right, Eric did flip. It took a lot of explanations, some coffee, and several blueberry muffins for him to calm down. Most of the time, Eric is pretty laid-back and relaxed. He only panics whenever he thinks I'm getting too close to another guy. I remember one time in high school when someone asked me out and Eric followed us around until I caught him hiding behind a bush.

According to him, the thought of me falling in love with someone freaks him out for reasons he doesn't even know. As for me, I don't really care too much about his love life. I just wish he was better at picking dates. The girls he usually went out with were bitches (in the most negative way possible) who picked at me behind my back whenever they came over.

Anyway. "America," Eric turned to the blonde after breakfast. "I don't mind you being around my sister, since you didn't hurt her last night. You seem relatively alright and you don't seem dangerous. But," he folded his arms. "If you're going to stay here, then you need to get a job."

"I do?"

"He does?"

"Of course he does!" Eric rolled his eyes at the two of us. "How do you expect us to feed him and any other uh..._units_ we may get?" Oh yeah, I hadn't thought about that. "So, according to this thing," Eric picked up the manual and flipped to the _Jobs Available_ page. "You can be a politician..."

"No."

"...he can also be a bodyguard..." I wavered at that one. But who would we lease him out to guard? I didn't want us getting mixed in any shady deals so I shook my head. "He can also be a policeman."

"That sounds pretty good," I said. In the end, however, we decided on salesman. I think Alfred just liked the idea of being paid to walk around in a nice suit and talk to people. According to the manual, his sheer enthusiasm, natural charm and good looks would have him raking it in quickly.

"Great," Eric snapped the book shut. "You can walk with Allie to school, and then go check for a job at an agency."

"Oh, then that means right now," I glanced at the clock. "Because my class is in like, twenty minutes so I have to start going _now_," I grabbed my bag. "Come on hero!" Alfred shoved one last muffin into his mouth and then took off after me. The college wasn't too far away, just a ten minute run from our house, so I made it with time to spare.

America adjusted Texas, which had gotten a bit crooked because of all the running, and ruffled my hair. "Ha, it's so soft!" He beamed, laughing when I smacked at his hands and tried to smoothen my hair again. "See you later, sidekick!"

"Bye Alfred!" I waved at him, and then turned to go into school. I could see some girls staring after him, and then staring at me. I am not one of the more popular girls. I mean, I'm pretty well known because of my participation in a lot of school activities and the fact that I'm Eric's sister, but I'm not _popular_.

One group of girls stopped me in front of the biology lab. "Who was that guy?" The girl in front asked me, snapping her gum to punctuate the end of the question. "You know, the cute blonde with the jacket that I saw you with?"

_I have little to no idea who any of you are, and yet you want to talk to me just because I happened to arrive with a cute guy?_ I stared at her blankly for a few seconds. "That was Alfred," I told them. "He's a friend of Eric's and he's staying with us for a while."

"Mmm, he's a hottie isn't he?" Another girl said. _Whoa. Keep it in your pants._ "He's staying with you? Like, in the same _house_?"

"Pretty much," I ended the conversation prematurely and quickly slipped into class. _Note to self: keep units away from school._

* * *

oOo

* * *

When I arrived home, neither Eric nor America were home. The former was probably still in class, while the latter was probably at work doing...whatever. That or he was roaming the streets being the hero and would be back once he had exhausted himself, or once he was hungry.

"At least now I have a little quiet time," I dropped my bag on the couch and pulled out my laptop. "I suppose I should begin my research on this whole Hetalia Unit thing..." I typed the necessary keywords into the search bar and a number of links popped up. Most were fanfics. Actually, nearly all of them were fanfics. But near the bottom, there was a link to a website . It looked potentilally promising, so I clicked on it.

At the same time, the doorbell rang. I put my laptop down and ran to the door to find...

"Shawn?" I stared at the familiar man in front of me, and then I tilted a little to the left. Yup, there was indeed a giant crate behind him. I sweatdropped. "Weren't you here just yesterday?" I asked, taking the signing pad from him and scribbling something moderately illegible onto it before handing it back.

Shawn just grinned. "Yep!" He replied cheerfully. "My bosses must really want you to have these. You should be glad! You did win them after all!" _Yeah, by accident_. I stood aside and let him wheel the crate into the house. "Here you go!" He handed me the brown envelope containing the manual, got back into his Flying Mint Bunny truck and drove away.

_You know, I don't think the sight of that will ever get any less surreal._ I shut the door and pulled out the manual, which was white, and flipped it open.

_Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of a FELICIANO VARGAS Unit!_

I stared at the manual silently, but for a completely different reason than yesterday. Yesterday was panicking because I was confused and freaked out. Today, I was trying to control my raging love for cuteness so that I didn't terrify the poor Italian. It was really hard. _Calm down Alex. Breathe in, and out, in...and out...OMG IT'S ITALY I JUST WANT TO GLOMP HIS FACE!_

Once I finally felt that I was under control, I read through the ways I could wake him up. According to the manual, I could: make pasta, get a LOVINO, LUDWIG or AUGUSTUS (which I assumed to be Grandpa Rome) unit to come yell at him, or just yank on his curl.

_Well, I don't have any of those,_ I thought._ And this seems like the least traumatizing/strange way to wake him up_. I went into the kitchen and started heating up some water. The crate was a bit far away, but by the time I had started pouring in the linguini, I could hear thumping from inside the box.

"_Ve~, let me out! It's dark in here!_" I quickly ran over to the box and opened it using a knife to remove the screws at the top. As soon as I removed the top, someone jumped on me. "Ve~! Thank you bella! You saved me from the scary box!"

In front of me, once again, was another Hetalia character lookalike. His eyes were squinched shut, and he even had the weird curl sticking out of his head. He was hugging me really tightly, and rubbing his cheek against mine. _Must...resist...urge...to glomp..._ "Ha," I choked out a small laugh while trying not to squeeze the life out of him. "You're welcome."

"What's your name, bella?" He leaned back to stare at me. I assume he was staring at me, because I couldn't see his eyes at all. "My name is Feliciano and I like pasta and pizza and pretty girls!" _Resistance weakening..._ I was beginning to break out in a sweat.

"Um, my name is Alexandra, but you can call me Alex," I told him.

"Ve~," Feli smiled at me. "That's a really pretty name for a pretty girl! Oh, and you have such nice hair!" He buried his face in my hair like I was a cat or something.

I lost my inner battle for composure and tackle glomped him to the ground, which was how Eric and America found us when they came home about five seconds later. They found me on the ground cooing over a confused, but nonetheless cheerful Italian man. "Allie, what the hell are you doing?" Eric stared at me. Behind him, America was laughing at the scene.

"But he's just so _cute_!" I hugged Italy tighter. "Oh, and we're having linguini for dinner tonight."

"But I brought you McDonald's!" America held up a bag with the familiar golden arches on the front. I stared at the bag of greasy, unhealthy and highly processed food, and snatched it out of his hands.

"We're still having pasta," I told him as I began unwrapping the burger. He'd only gotten me a large cheeseburger. _What, no fries? No drink? _

America blinked at me. "But...won't you be full after that?"

I finished unwrapping the burger and took a few bites, which I chewed and swallowed, and the I stared at him. "My stomach is almost a bottomless pit," I informed him in a deadpan tone. "It takes a _lot_ to make me full."

"It's true," Eric nodded solemnly. "I don't know where it all goes."

"Ve~, because the pretty girl has a very nice shape, ve~!" Eric and America stared at Italy silently. It was clear that Feli was just voicing out his opinion with no other motive. He was rocking from side to side and humming something to himself with that same oblivious and adorable smile. _NO! HOLD IT IN ALEX! YOU CANNOT GLOMP HIM AGAIN!_

Eric sighed. "What is it will all you units calling my sister cute?"

"Well I can't help that I'm the cuter sibling,"I preened.

"We're twins."

"Yeah, but clearly I got the best genes out of that deal," I quickly chomped down the rest of the burger, and then I got to my feet. "Come on Feli," I held out my hand to the unit. "Let's go make pasta!"

"PASTA~!" He cheered as we ran into the kitchen. I set him to work making the sauce while I checked the pasta and drained it. "Ve~..._sorella_?"

"Hmm?" I looked up from where I was separating the strands and stared at Feliciano curiously. "What did you call me?"

He blushed slightly. "_Sorella. _It means 'sister', ve~. Since you saved me and you seem nice I wanted to be able to call you something." _Frick, he's blushing. He's blushing. He looks so cute. Goddammit Alex, pull yourself together!_"Ve~?" I realised I was staring at him really hard and he was beginning to look a bit freaked out.

I quickly smiled and looked away. "Yeah, if you want, I'll be your sister. So...how do you say brother in Italian?" I was almost fluent in French, not Italian. You'd think the two would be more similar, being descended from the same language and all, but they're not. They are not.

Feli gave the sauce one last stir, and then turned off the stove. "Ve~, that's _fratello_."

Fratello. Frère. Brother. I beamed and hugged him around the waist. "Then it's settled! I'm your _sorella, _and you're my new _fratello_. And I will protect you from anyone that tries to hurt you!"

"Ve~!"

"Aw, you're so cute!"

The door of the kitchen suddenly flew open and Eric burst in. "I heard cooing!" He glared at the two of us. "Allie, I know you have this weird fondness for stuff you consider cute, but don't you think this is a bit much?"

"It is _not_ much!" I informed him. "Oh, and food's ready! America, help me set the table!" The blonde saluted cheerfully and left the kitchen while I carried the linguini and pasta sauce to the table. I quickly served myself and Feli, who nearly inhaled his plate on the first try. I took a bite. "This is amazing!" The sauce was heavenly. "Feli, you have got to teach me how to cook pasta sauce like this!"

"Ve~ _si sorella_!"

"WHY IS HE CALLING YOU 'SISTER'!?"

"ERIC, YOU'RE SCARING THE ITALIAN! PUT DOWN YOUR KNIFE!"

"VE~, SAVE ME SORELLA!"

Throughout all of this, America just laughed obnoxiously in the background until I finally threatened not to make anymore chocolate brownies if they both didn't just shut up. It worked, and the rest of the dinner went quite well. Feli stuck really close to me, though, and he kept whimpering and _ve_-ing a lot.

Finally, dinner ended and I left Eric and America to do the washing up. As I was going up the stairs, I spotted my laptop on the couch. _Oh yeah, I was researching something earlier about these units!_ I jogged back down and picked it up. Unfortunately, the battery had died. _Ugh. I guess that'll just have to wait until tomorrow._

I plugged the device in my room and quickly changed for bed. As I was climbing into bed, however, I heard a knock on the door. "America, I said that was a one-time deal only!" I rolled over as the door opened, and then I blinked. It wasn't America. It was Italy...and he was completely naked.

I half-yelped, half-screamed, and pulled my covers up to cover my eyes. Italy, freaked out by my scream, began crying and yelling apologies and begging me not to hurt him.

My mind flashed back to the manual. _Italy likes to sleep naked, even in the series._ I mentally facepalmed for not remembering that fact. "Feli, I'm not going to ask you why you are naked right now," I used my hands to block out my view of his...uh...lower parts. "But why are you naked in _my room_?" I'd given him a room immediately after dinner. "Is something wrong?" I asked him.

"Ve~," he shifted nervously. "I get lonely when I sleep by myself, so can I sleep here with you?"

_Frick, he's so cute._ I smiled slightly. "I guess so," I said. "But only on one condition."

"Ve~?"

"You have to get some pants." There was no way I was sleeping in bed with a full grown, naked man, even if he was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.

Italy pouted. "Ve~ but I get uncomfortable wearing them to sleep!" _Well I get uncomfortable in the presence of naked men._ He suddenly beamed. "But if it means I can sleep next to you tonight, then I will wear them! Ve~!" He zoomed out of the room, and quickly returned with a pair of pyjama pants. "_Sorella_, is this okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's fine. Hop in." He did, literally, and quickly snuggled up to me with little or no hesitation or awkwardness. It was like we'd been doing this all our lives.

He buried his face in the junction between my neck and shoulder, and _ve_-ed sleepily. "Goodnight, _sorella_."

I ran a hand through his hair, avoiding The Curl, and closed my eyes. "Goodnight Feli."

oOo

"WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH YOU LETTING THESE UNITS SLEEP WITH YOU?" Eric ranted the next morning. It was Saturday, which meant no classes and almost no work. America hadn't come downstairs yet, and I was considering going upstairs to wake him up.

"But...he's adorable!" I flipped several stacks of bacon in the pan, and then dished them. Feli was still upstairs getting dressed, after being terrified out of my room by Eric. "Besides, you should be glad we have all these units. Maybe they'll show me how to cook more dishes!"

Eric rolled his eyes. "That seems like the only upside," he muttered. He shoved a strip of fried pork into his mouth with pout. "Fine. You make really good food anyway. It tastes like home." _D'aw_. Eric, for all his over-protectiveness and inability to pick good friends and girlfriends, really is an awesome brother.

I hugged him briefly. "Thanks Eric." A second later, Feli came skipping down the stairs.

He beamed at me happily. "Ve~, good morning _sorella_! Good morning _sorella's_ other brother!"

"You can just call him Eric," I walked over and hugged Italy. "Good morning to you too, Feli. Did you sleep well?"

"Ve~, I slept very well _bella_! I don't feel lonely when you're with me!"

"That's good!"

Eric grunted and grabbed a piece of toast from the plate on the table. "Well, he needs a job too anyway. I'll get the manual." Feli and I waited in the kitchen while he hunted down the Italian's manual. There were only three jobs listed for Feli. "It says here that he can be...a stripper?"

"HELL NO!" I wrapped my arms around Feli's body and glared daggers at the manual. "_Hell. Fucking. No._"

My brother held up his hands in a _hey-don't-shoot-me_ sort of way. "He can also be...bait?" My glare only grew darker. I half expected the manual to burst into flames, which would be a pretty cool power, really. America would love that. "Okay, and he can be a babysitter. Apparently he's great with kids!"

Well, that sounded much better than the other options. "Okay," I nodded. "But that will have to wait until Monday because all the preschools are closed for the weekend. Eric, can you go wake America up?"

"I would," he shrugged. "But I have to go out now."

I arched an eyebrow at him as he started grabbing his phone and wallet. "You're not worried about leaving me in the care of two male units?" I asked.

"Hey, one of them is an idiot with a hero-complex, and the other looks a bit too innocent and cowardly," he grabbed the car keys. "Besides, if anything happens, I trust you. You have a baseball bat."

I did. I did have one. I played baseball in high school and my mom got me a bat. It was originally plain wood, but I had customized it with makers and stickers so it looked pretty cool now. At some point I'd asked to put nails in it, but we'd scrapped that idea really quickly for obvious reasons. "Okay. Bye Eric!" The door shut behind him.

I went back to the kitchen to find Feli sitting at the table eating a slice of toast and _ve_-ing happily. I smiled slightly, and switched off the stove. "Ve~, Alex?" I hummed to let him know I'd heard him. "I found paint in your room, ve~...can I use it?"

I used to do art in high school, but I wasn't really cut out for doing it as a subject. I preferred to do it as a hobby, really. I nodded. "Yeah, I'll bring it down. The red is almost finished though, so I'll buy a new set when we go shopping," I ruffled his hair and my finger brushed against The Curl.

Feli immediately flinched. His face got a bit pinker, and he began _ve_-ing and whimpering. "_S-sorella..._"

I quickly whipped my hand away. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I apologised profusely over and over again. _But he looks adorable! He's so pink right now!_ After a few seconds, he began to calm down. The redness receded. "I'm really sorry about that," I looked down at him worriedly.

"Ve~, it's okay _sorella_!" He leaned in and pecked me on my cheeks. _Who gave you the freaking right to be this adorable, huh? _I could feel my cheeks heating up, and I'm sure that if I had lighter skin I'd be pink. I pecked him on one cheek, and smiled.

"Well, I'm gonna go get the paints and wake up Alfred," I grabbed a slice of toast to eat on the way. "You know where the TV is, right?" He nodded. I left him in the kitchen and made my way upstairs to Alfred's room. I knocked once, no response. I knocked a bit louder, still no response. Finally, I pushed the door open.

The room was pretty bare, which made sense because it had been empty and not in use before Alfred. There were McDonald wrappers and soda cups on the floor leading up to the bed. On the bed was a human-sized lump covered with a duvet.

I sighed and quickly gathered up the trash and dropped it into the dustbin, and then I walked over to the bed. "Hey, Alfred!" I shook him a bit. "Alfred!" The duvet shifted a bit as America rolled onto his back. Now I could see his face. "Oi, America!" I tried pulling the duvet off him, but then he suddenly yanked down on the covers and I ended up beside him on the bed. I sweatdropped. "Hey, hero!" I poked his face. "It's your awesome sidekick here to tell you that it's time to get up!"

That seemed to do the trick. America opened his eyes, and then grinned at me brightly. He woke up faster than anyone I'd ever seen. "Hey sidekick!" He grinned down at me with a level of enthusiasm rarely seen in those that have just woken up. "Why are you in my bed?"

"You should be asking yourself that question," I poked his face one last time, and then rolled off the bed. "I made bacon and toast, but there's also cereal." I would have suggested pancakes, but I'd run out of eggs yesterday. _Which reminds me..._ "I need to go grocery shopping today."

I made a quick mental list of all the things we needed. _Eggs, butter, chocolate…ice cream? Maybe. If the store has cookies and cream, then definitely…_

I planned out all of this as I made my way to my room to look for the paints I had promised to give Feli. They were in the drawer I usually kept my hobby things in. There was some wool, knitting needles, crotchet pins, several needles, bits of fabric, an old sketchpad, a few markers, small paper flags of the U.S.A and Russia (made while I was studying the Cold War in my last year of high school), and several old diaries.

_I have way too much stuff. _I grabbed the paints and hopped downstairs to find Italy. On the way, I grabbed my jacket and wallet. "Alfred, Feli!" I called out. "I'm going grocery shopping now! Do you guys want anything specific?"

"PASTA~!" Feliciano poked a head out of the kitchen.

"We already have lots of that," I walked over and hugged him around the waist. "What about you, hero?" I asked Alfred, who had a bacon sandwich shoved in his mouth. He replied to me with his mouth full, and so his response came out sounding like garbled nonsense. "English, America. English. Swallow your food first."

He chewed a bit faster, and then gulped down his mouthful. "I said, why don't we just follow you?" He grinned at me. "As the hero, I have to protect you from bad guys, don't I?"

I rolled my eyes. I could take care of myself, but I guess the companionship would be nice too. "Ve~, I want to come too _sorella_!" Italy wrapped his arms around my neck and rested his chin on the top of my head. Darn my lack of height! And I'm done growing, so I'm going to be this height for the rest of my life.

I reached up and pinched his cheeks gently. "Okay then, let's go!"


	3. The British Are Coming

**I'm sorry to the reviewer who wanted Spain, but I'd already planned for France to be there! He is my favourite member of the BTT so, yeah...**

**I don't own Hetalia, neither do I own the information from any manuals!**

**The British Are Coming. So Are The French**

Shopping with both America and Italy was both fun, and stressful. Italy mostly stuck by me, but he wouldn't stop _talking_ and pointing out everything he saw that seemed fascinating. I didn't mind so much, since I'm not much of a talker anyway.

America, on the other hand, would run ahead of me, fascinated by whatever it was that had caught his eye, and then sprint back to me to ask if he could buy one thing or the other. He was like a yoyo. One that could talk. I felt like a mother with two hyperactive kids. The second we stepped into the convenience store, we started attracting a lot of attention. Either from girls who were wondering about the cute guys, or shop workers who were watching to make sure neither of them broke and/or stole anything.

I grabbed a basket and wandered over to the dairy aisle. "Ve~ _sorella_!" I looked up. Italy shoved a box of lasagne pasta in my face. "Let's get this, please?"

"Hey, hey, sidekick!" I turned and America held up a book of superhero posters and stickers. "Can we get this? It'll look totally awesome in my room!"

I stared at the two of them, and sighed. "Fine, we can get _these_," I took the things out of their hands and threw them into the basket. "Now stick near me. No going off to grab things you don't need!" I tossed some milk, cheese and yoghurt into the basket, and then we found more bread, some bacon, sausages and I even bought ice cream (rocky road and cookies 'n' cream) for America and I. finally, I bought a pack of new paints for Italy.

_Thank god this store has a bunch of random stuff for sale,_ I sighed as the guy at the cash register totalled up everything and put it in a bunch of plastic bags. America grabbed the bags before I could. "Don't sweat it, sidekick!" He grinned down at me as he carried the five or so bags like they weighed nothing. "I got this!"

"Ve~, thank you for buying us things, _sorella_!" Italy hugged me tightly. _Aw, shucks, you guys are adorable!_

I smiled back at them. "You're welcome, Feli," I said. "And thanks for carrying the bags, Alfred." Luckily, the store wasn't too far from the house, which was why I could see the large, mint green truck parked outside my house. "_Merde,_" I muttered. "_Merde, merde, merde…_Shawn!" I glared at the man unloading not one, but _two_ crates. "YOU WERE JUST HERE YESTERDAY!" I grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him hard. "WHY ARE YOU HERE AGAIN? GO AWAY!"

"Ve~, _sorella_!" Italy _ve_-ed in a panicked manner, which made me release Shawn in favour of hugging him tightly and cooing apologies for scaring him. "Ve~…"

In that space of time, Shawn recovered from my attack. "Whoa, no need to attack me!" He held up his arms defensively. "I just deliver the things!" I scowled, but signed for the crates nonetheless, and then I opened the door. I made my way to the kitchen to put the groceries away, while he and America carried the crates into the house. Italy stayed to watch them out of curiousity.

"Who did we get this time?" I grabbed the manuals from the table.

_Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of an ARTHUR KIRKLAND Unit!_

_Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of a FRANCIS BONNEFOIS Unit!_

"Looks like we got England and France," I wasn't sure whether or not to panic, or just roll with it. France was a pervert, but I did have a bat. I could handle one member of the BTT, couldn't I? England was relatively alright, if a bit temperamental.

I felt something else inside France's envelope, and found a book with the title _How To Stop the French From Invading Your Bed._

I sweatdropped. _What the hell? _"Who do we open first?"

"Iggy's in there?" America grinned. "Let's open him first!"

"Ve~, let's open big brother France's crate!" Italy cheered.

"How about we open them up randomly?" I suggested. Both crates looked the same, so I wasn't sure who was in which. I quickly scanned through the methods of waking them up. "Huh, I guess we could do the singing methods," I murmured. "I know the French national anthem pretty well…"

America pouted at me. "Hey, why does my citizen and sidekick know the French anthem anyway?" He whined.

"I had to do a language in high school, and my school only offered Spanish or French. I chose French," I poked his cheek to make him feel better, and he cheered up instantly. Honestly, he could never stay mad for long. "Just give me a minute…" I ran upstairs and grabbed my bat from inside my wardrobe, and then I ran back. "Okay, let's get this over with," I rested the bat on my shoulder and cleared my throat. "_Allons enfants de la patrie, le jour de gloire est arriv..._"

I wasn't even halfway through the first verse when I heard humming coming from inside the crate on the left. I stopped singing, but the humming continued. I went to go find a knife to open the crates, while Alfred started singing the American national anthem in a horrifically off-key manner.

As it turned out, I didn't _need_ go find a knife to open England's crate because, suddenly, a hand broke through the crate and shot out of the top. "TURN THAT BLOODY SHIT OFF YOU BLOODY GIT!"

"Ve~!" Italy jumped behind me in terror. "_Sorella_ save me!" I blinked as a man with short blonde hair, green eyes and rather large eyebrows climbed out of the broken top of the box. He glared at America, who stopped singing and beamed at him happily.

"Yo, Iggy!"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT, YOU WANKER!"

Just as he looked like he was about to attack America and choke the younger nation with his glasses, I remembered France. "_Angleterre_?" A thickly accented voice came from the other crate. "_Angleterre_, is that you? Would someone be so kind as to open this box, _s'il vous plait_?"

"Hold on," I skipped over to the crate and carefully removed the nails holding the top. As soon as I did, I found myself staring into a pair of gleaming blue eyes. "Wah!" I jumped backwards, not expecting the close proximity, and found myself face to face with a France doppelganger.

He climbed out of the box. "_Merci_," he smiled at me with all the charm he possessed, which was a lot let me tell you. "_Bonjour, mademoiselle_," he took my hand and kissed it. "_Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefois, ma petite chaton, et toi?_"

Before I could answer, England immediately tackled France away from me. "Get away from her, you perverted frog!" He yelled. "She doesn't understand your disgusting language!"

"Actually, _je m'appelle Alexandra, mais vous pouvez m'appeler Alex,_" I smiled brightly at the two of them, who were both staring at me in shock. France's shock soon turned to amusement.

"_Ohonhonhon~_," he chuckled and started making bedroom eyes at me from the ground. "_J'aimerais vous entendre parler ma langue dans son lit_."

_Whoa, dude, you have only known me all of five minutes. _I immediately pointed my bat at his face in a threatening manner. "If you come so much as a foot near me with such thoughts I will crush you with this bat," I smiled at him brightly. "Am I clear?" His eyes widened in fear and he nodded several times, although I was sure his terror wouldn't last too long.

England started laughing, and then he smiled at me. "Please excuse my boorish behaviour earlier," he said in the smoothest British accent I had ever heard. "I am Arthur Kirkland, and you are?"

_Well frick-frack, British accents are hot. _I smiled at him and returned the bat to my shoulder. "My name is Alexandra, but you can call me Alex, or any other random assortment of non-insulting nicknames. I live with my twin, but he isn't here right now so I guess you'll meet him later." I gestured to their crates. "Do you guys want to take your things upstairs, or are you hungry?"

"Ve~," Italy hugged me from behind happily. "You'll like living here, big brother France!" He chirped. "_Sorella_ is really pretty and she makes really good food and she cuddles me whenever I'm upset! Ve~…"

_You adorable piece of humanity you._ "And she's my sidekick now!" America ruffled the top of my hair while laughing his usual America laugh. "Her power is being super cute but still being able to kill you with a bat!" _I like that power. Thanks America._ France's eyes widened at that. _Yeah, I wasn't joking about that. Fear me in all my below-average-height glory!_

England was the first to speak. "I'd like to pick my room first, if it's not too much trouble love," Arthur said. France nodded as well.

I shrugged and nodded. "Alright, grab your things," I led them upstairs. "That's my room, that's Eric's room, that's America's room, and that's Italy's room," I pointed at each room in turn with my baseball bat. I was running out of space in this house, although Italy's room was virtually not in use since he had pretty much declared his preference of sleeping in my room. "Okay, you can pick your own rooms now."

"I'll take this one, love," England chose one of the rooms closer to the end of the corridor.

"Then I will have this one," France pointed to a door.

I stared at him weirdly. "Um…that's my room…"

"I know~"

Either England really didn't like France's continuous and perverted come-ons, or he just liked fighting France, but the next second later the two were involved in a scuffle with words like 'frog', 'eyebrows', 'wine pervert' and 'hideous' being tossed around. I sweatdropped and walked away. They'd make up on their own.

When I got downstairs, Eric was just walking into the house. "Allie, I'm home!" I jogged down the last few steps and skipped to the door. Eric hugged me, and then he stiffened. "Allie, why are there to people I don't know in our house?"

Apparently the two of them had made up faster than usual, or maybe they were just curious about my twin. "Uh, yeah…these are two more units," I introduced them. "This is Arthur Kirkland, and that is Francis Bonnefois."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," England greeted politely. Eric stared at him for a second, and then transferred his eyes to Francis.

His eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't happen to be French, would you?"

"Ah, _oui monsieur_," Francis smiled.

"ALLIE, WHY IS THERE A FRENCH GUY HERE? I WAS FINE WITH THE AMERICAN, AND THE ITALIAN, AND I AM FINE WITH THE ENGLISH GUY! YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT YOU BEING AROUND GUYS AND NOW ONE OF THEM IS FRENCH?"

I sweatdropped. Eric didn't like me being around guys, and he believed the stereotype of all Frenchmen being handsome sex freaks. While I didn't completely believe all stereotypes, I knew Francis was kind of like that.

"Calm down, _monsieur,_" Francis smirked. "I won't do anything _ma petite chaton _doesn't want~…"

"STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER YOU FROG!" England snickered at the insult.

I grabbed my twin by the face and forced him to look at me. "Eric, chill," I said. "I will be fine. The French aren't perverts for the sake of being perverted, French way of life says that art is everywhere and should me admired, and the human body is the greatest work of art and should be admired in the same way. Besides," I smiled up at him. "I have a baseball bat, remember?"

There was stunned silence after my little monologue, and then Eric huffed and muttered something that sounded like _alright_. "But I'm watching you," he made the universal sign at France, and then went upstairs to change.

England stared at me curiously. "How do you know all that, love?" He asked me.

"Hmm?" I shrugged. "I read a book on French culture once, and I took a trip to France when I was fifteen. It was pretty beautiful." I couldn't look anywhere without seeing a couple kissing or hugging or holding hands. I even saw a couple kissing while riding a bicycle, which just seemed really dangerous and not romantic at all.

"_Chaton!_"

"_Gack!_" I chocked as France suddenly hugged me really tightly. "Hey, what the heck?"

"_Tu étais si doux pour moi de défendre_!" He cried melodramatically into my hair. "Such a kind heart held inside such a beautiful body!" I sweatdropped at his theatrics, and just decided to go for the thing I normally did in such a situation: I patted him on the head. Which was odd since, according to the manual, he was 26 and therefore about eight years older than I was, but meh. "Allow me to show my gratitude…"

_Okay. _"No thanks!" I pushed him away and looked at everyone else. "Who's hungry?"

"The hero!" America pumped his fist into the air. "I say we get McDonald's!

"No!" The unanimous, negative call immediately destroyed that choice.

"Maybe I could cook something, love," England suggested. I suddenly flashed back to all the episodes where England's cooking had nearly killed someone. Judging by the looks on everyone else's face, they were also thinking the same thing.

"Uh, no, Arthur," I tried not to sound too desperate. "It's your first day. You don't need to cook. I insist," I added, seeing that he was about to argue. "Really. It's fine. I'll go whip something up in the kitchen."

"Ve~, sorella, can we make pasta again?" Italy skipped into the kitchen after me. "We can make lasagne this time, ve~!"

Mmm, I hadn't had lasagne in ages. "Agreed," I nodded. "You get the pasta and sauce, and I'll get the cheese and spices!"

"_Si~!_"

England poked his head into the kitchen. "Are you sure I can't do anything to help, love?" He looked so hopeful, so in spite of the frantic head-shakes I was getting from the rest of the nations, I decided to let him cut up the garlic. I mean, he couldn't mess that up, right? How hard could it be to cut up some garli-! "Ouch! Bloody hell!"

The Englishman was glaring at his finger, which now had thin gash from which blood was welling up. _Blood? I thought these units were mechanical! This is weird, but this isn't the time to be thinking of that. _"England, are you okay?" I walked over to him and grabbed his hand without asking. "It doesn't look too bad, but I don't want it to get infected…Feli!"

"_Si_?"

"Find me the First Aid box. It should be in the cabinet beside the stairs!" He zoomed off, and soon reappeared with the red and white box.

"Ah, love, this isn't necessary!" England tried to dissuade me. "It's just a little scratch, after all."

"Yeah, but it could become worse," I grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and dabbed it on a cotton pad. "Now, give me your hand…"

"But…"

"Arthur…" I raised my voice a bit and glared at him. "Give me your hand, _now_. I will not have you walking around with a bloody hand!" The whole thing did make me feel a bit hypocritical, as I had once nearly hacked my finger off and had gone around like nothing had happened, but that was me. Salt and warm water were sufficient. "Now, hold still." I grabbed his hand and carefully dabbed the blood away, and then I grabbed a plain sticking plaster and wrapped it around his finger. "There we go!"

The English unit stared at his bandaged hand. I noticed that he was blushing very slightly. "T-Thank you…"

I smiled back. "You're welcome!" It looked like I was going to be the unofficial cook, nurse, maid and shopper around here. I foresaw a lot of work in my future.

"Ohonhon~, are you blushing _mon lapin_?"

"SHUT UP YOU BLOODY GIT!"

I ignored the arguing males and quickly packed up the medical things. I wandered back over to the stove. "Feli, how's the lasagne coming along?"

"Ve~, it smells good _sorella_!"

"You know what would make this even better?" America suddenly appeared with a bunch of glass and squeeze bottles. "Condiments!"

"America, where did you find those? AMERICA, NO! YOU CAN'T PUT MUSTARD IN THE SAUCE!"

* * *

**Translations:**

**_Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefois, ma petite chaton, et toi?_** \- My name is Francis Bonnefois, my little kitten, and you?

_**Je m'appelle Alexandra, mais vous pouvez m'appeler Alex** \- _My name is Alexandra but you can call me Alex

**_J'aimerais vous entendre parler ma langue dans son lit_** \- I'd like to hear you speak my language in bed

**Please review if you can!**


	4. I See England I See France

**I don't own Hetalia, or the manuals used. I wish I owned a shitload of Hetalia units, but I don't *sobs* enjoy the story!**

**I See England I See France**

Feli and I (mainly me) eventually kicked everyone else out of the kitchen so we could cook in peace. France offered to help, but when he wasn't shooting me bedroom eyes, he was subtly feeling up my baby Italian, so I kicked him out too.

Dinner was eaten, and Eric developed an even greater wariness for the blonde Frenchman when he attempted to play footsie with me, but got Eric instead. He didn't seem to mind though, and actually tried it, and was given a kick in the shin for his trouble.

"THAT'S IT! ALLIE, SHIP HIM BACK! WE CAN KEEP THE REST!"

"I VOTE YES ON THAT! SEND THE WINE FREAK PACKING!"

"NON, MON LAPIN, HOW COULD YOU? DON'T SEND ME BACK CHATON!"

"SHUT UP!" I stabbed the lasagne with the kitchen so hard it cut in half, which was sort of convenient. "SHUT UP!" I pointed the knife at Eric and England. "You guys, stop yelling! And you!" I turned to point it at France, who yelped (he was probably remembering my earlier threat). "Stop trying to molest everyone here!"

"_Je suis desole,_" France replied, a bit shakily. Satisfied, I continued cutting up more lasagne for Feli.

"Ve~, thank you _sorella_!"

I smiled back. "You're welcome Feli!"

"And she's back to fawning over the Italian," Eric muttered under his breath. "Bipolar amazon."

"I love you too, twin," I smirked at him. Dinner ended quickly, and I put England and France on washing up duty, with Eric as a supervisor to ensure that none of them, in their rage, broke any of the plates and chinaware over each other's heads. America and I sat in front of the TV and watched _Captain America_ (because why not?) while Feli lay on the floor in front of the couch and drew with my markers. I couldn't see what he was drawing, but it sure as hell looked colourful.

"You know," I commented, passing Alfred the bowl of popcorn on my lap. "DC is all good, but I think Marvel has way better heroes."

"You think?" Alfred crammed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, and spoke through the crunching. "What about Batman? Or Superman?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, hero," I grabbed another handful of rich, buttery goodness, and shrugged. "Batman's alright, I guess. I prefer the cartoon and LEGO versions of him to the movie though…" I threw some kernels into my mouth. "As for Superman, he's far too…uncategorised, let's say. Besides, Marvel has the Avengers and X-Men and that pretty much trumps DC."

America tossed another handful of popcorn into his mouth and spoke through the buttery mush. "True!" He cheered, and then he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his side with a cheery laugh. "My sidekick is awesome!"

"Heck yeah she is! Avengers for the win!" We high-fived, which was just as painful and exhilarating as it was before. "Ow, my hand…"

France and England came out of the kitchen and stared at the two of us. "America, it would certainly be a terrible thing to corrupt the _petite chaton_ with your stupidity," Francis arched an eyebrow elegantly. I stared at him silently. _I wanna be able to do that…_

"Hey, I'm _not_ corrupting my sidekick in any way!" America suddenly wrapped his arms around me like I was a teddy bear (one of the terrible things about being short is that people can manhandle you easily). "You try not to corrupt her with your Frenchiness!"

"That isn't a word," England and I pointed out at the same time. "Super-jinx-personal-bad-luck!" I yelled loudly.

All three of them stared at me blankly. Eric snickered loudly from the kitchen. "What did you just say, _chaton_?" Francis finally asked.

I blushed slightly. "It's a thing Eric and I do," I explained to him. "It means Arthur can't talk until I tell him otherwise he'll have bad luck!" The Englishman arched an eyebrow at me, and I smiled back. "It doesn't really mean anything, but it's funny as heck sometimes! Don't worry," I added. "You can talk."

"That sounds like a rather interesting game, love," he commented. "Maybe I can use it on these gits so I can get a little peace and quiet when I want to read."

France immediately slithered over to England's side and draped an arm around his shoulders. "Aw, _lapin_, you know you love my voice…~"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Cue ensuing scuffle. I sweatdropped at the two feuding blondes, and then I remembered Feli.

I leaned over to watch him curiously. "Whatcha drawing, Italy?"

"Ve~…" he sat up cross-legged, and held up the paper so I could see what was o it. I flushed slightly. It was a surprisingly beautiful picture of me (and I say surprising because it was only drawn with markers and god knows it is really hard to draw properly with markers. Or at least it's hard for _me_) sitting at a table and reading a book. "Do you like it, _sorella_?"

I stared at it for several seconds, not saying a word, and then I tackle glomped him to the ground. "I LOVE IT!" I squealed into his shoulder. "IT'S SO AMAZING YOU BEAUTIFUL, ADORABLE HUMAN CREATURE!" I was pretty much nuzzling into his face, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Ve~," Italy giggled happily. "I'm glad you like it, _sorella_."

"I feel like I've been replaced," Eric commented from somewhere behind me. "Anyway…" I yelped as Eric picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. He started towards the stairs. "Time for bed, baby sister."

"We're twins you twit!" I yelled at him. France, England, America and Italy watched as Eric carried me up the stairs. "And you know I hate being carried like this! Put me down you insufferable ignoramus!"

England snorted and barley repressed his snickers. My brother paused. "I have no idea what you just called me, but it sounded hurtful. I'm hurt."

I rolled my eyes as he put me down. "Well boohoo," I replied. "Learn not to suck at English then," I told him. "Feli, bedtime! What?" I blinked at everyone else when they stared at me. "Feli sleeps in my room now, or did you not know that?"

America blinked. "Since when?"

"Since…last night, apparently," I shrugged. "Goodnight everyone!" Feli skipped over to me and grabbed my hand as we made our way upstairs. After a few more seconds, the rest of the nations filed after us and made their way to their own bedrooms for the night. Like last night, Feli and I cuddled down together (I had to remind him to get his pants again) for the night.

He fell asleep first, making that cute phonetic tic he always makes and smiling happily in his sleep. I smiled slightly. Feli was so cute, and sweet, and I liked taking care of him. More then I liked taking care of Eric, that's for sure.

Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard my door creak open slowly and a shaft of light appeared on my bedroom floor. I froze. _That could be Eric, but I doubt it. It could be America, but we didn't watch any scary movies tonight. That can only mean one thing…_

"_Ohonhon~_"

_Thwack!_

The sound of my bat connecting with his head was loud, and it woke Feliciano up. "VE~, I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!" He screamed to his supposed attacker. "I'M STILL A VIRGIN! YOU DON'T WANT TO KILL A VIRGIN!" I sweatdropped and patted him on the head to reassure him that nothing was wrong. "Ve~, why is big brother France on the ground?"

I stared at the naked body of the unconscious Frenchman, and sighed. "I'm housing a pervert," I murmured to myself. "And now I have to get him out of here." Considering the circumstances (namely his nudity) I did not want to touch him. Luckily he was facedown, otherwise I'd be seeing stuff I really didn't want to see. I threw one of my sheets over his lower back so I wouldn't see anything else.

As I was doing that, Eric and the other units came rushing. Apparently they had also heard the sound of wood hitting a person. "Allie!" Eric rushed into my room, and nearly tripped over France. "WHAT THE FU-!"

"Language," I snapped.

"Don't worry, the hero is here!" America ran into the room, along with England, and they both stopped in the doorway. America blinked several times in confusion. "Whoa, dude, why is France passed out in your room?"

I shrugged and sat down beside Feliciano on my bed. "I knocked him upside the head with my bat," I explained. "I knew I should have read that book," I muttered the last part under my breath.

"That bloody pervert!" England exploded. "I was so sure he was going to try this on me!" And then he blushed slightly. "N-not that I'm glad it happened to you…"

I just smiled at him. I knew that wasn't what he'd meant. Besides, he had been molested by France enough times in the series, and in fanfictions, so he could have a break now. I covered my mouth with my sleeve as I yawned. "Anyway, could someone get him out of here so I can sleep?"

"Of course baby sister," Eric's grin worried me. It radiated dark vengeance and thoughts. Feliciano began to tremble and cower behind me nervously. "I know just where to put him…"

"Eric, you can't tie a rock to his leg and throw him into the swimming pool," I sighed. My brother frowned at that. "Throwing him in our neighbour's wood-chipper is also out of the question," I added when I saw his mouth open again. "Burying him alive, mutilation, selling him on the black market and poisoning him are also unacceptable options."

There was a pause. "How about…"

"You also cannot hire a helicopter and push him out at high altitude," I cut him off. I knew my twin very well. "Just take the weirdo back to his room and hopefully he'll wake up with slight retrograde amnesia and a serious headache."

"…fine," he grumbled. Between him and England, the two of them hefted the blonde up and carried him out of the room. America followed, chattering to Eric about whether or not my powers also included being able to read minds as well as hit people with a bat.

"Good grief," I yawned and crawled back into bed beside Feli. "I hope this doesn't happen every night."

* * *

oOo

* * *

France didn't seem to have suffered any physical damage, apart from a slight headache when he woke up. He had, on penalty of death and/or castration, apologised to me for sneaking into my room last night.

"Although," he commented from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. "I wasn't going to do anything to you. Not without the _mademoiselle's_ express permission."

I scoffed and continued chopping up the bell peppers. "Yeah well, you don't have it. You're probably never going to get it," I finished dicing up the pepper and poured it into the frying pan along with the cracked eggs.

It was Monday morning, and America and Feli had left for their jobs. Eric had gone for one of his early morning classes, which left me at home with England and France. The former was wandering around the house looking for Flying Mint Bunny. If he wandered far enough, I was pretty sure he'd find the room that housed my library.

"Anyway," I moved over to the stove and stirred the scrambled egg. "If you weren't going to do anything, then why did you sneak into my room?"

He grinned and laughed that very French laugh of his. "I must appreciate beauty, right _ma Cherie_?_Je voulais simplement regarder votre beauté dans sa forme la plus vulnérable._"

I turned and glared at him. "No," I snapped, pointing the spatula at him for emphasis. "Bad France. Molesting people is wrong."

He looked affronted. "Molesting? But of course! I am the country of _l'amour,_" he whipped a rose out of nowhere, and I could almost see the sparkles emanating from him. "No one understands love better than I do! And I know this," he held the rose out to me. "Love is something that cannot be forced unto another."

I blinked, and then I blinked again. You know, Fanfiction had really spoiled France for me. I understand using him as a sort of perverted comic relief, but so many stories depicted him as a wannabe rapist that his character had been spoiled for me.

"Huh," I turned the stove off and took the rose from him. "That might actually be the wisest and least perverted thing you've said since I met you. Well done," I stuck the rose in my hair and dished my breakfast. After breakfast, I grabbed the newspaper and their manuals so I could search through the job ads. "France, do me a favour and go look for England please."

"_Oui, ma chaton,_" he walked away. "Hey, _sourcils!_ Eyebrows! _Rosbif!_" I sweatdropped and wondered why he had to call out using the most insulting names in the manual. From somewhere in the house, I heard an English accented voice yelling, and then France laughing cheerily. "Oh, there you are _mon lapin!_"

"SHUT UP YOU GIT!"

"Ah, is that really the sort of language you should use when there is a lady in the house?"

"BUGGER OFF!"

I decided to ignore their repressed sexual tension and focused on the newspaper pages. For Francis, I circled any jobs that had to do with cooking with my pen (because that was the only job I would allow from his manual). I got stuck for England though. He really struck me as a sort of literary person, like a lecturer of English literature and language (I was just afraid he would become really biased and/or throw things at people if they dared butcher the language in front of him).

While I was debating, the two of them had finally returned. France looked a little worse for wear, and Arthur looked a bit grumpier. "Hey, Arthur," I waved him over, and then I noticed the book he was holding. "Oh, so you found my library then?"

He blinked at me in surprise. "It's yours?"

I nodded. "Some of the books used to belong to my grandfather, but he gave them to me when he died. A bunch were already mine though," I gestured to the book. "I didn't think Mark Twain was up your alley."

England blushed and hid the unabridged version of _Tom Sawyer_ behind his back. I could hear France laughing quietly. "A-Anyway love, what did you call me for?"

"Oh yeah," I passed the newspaper to France and then gestured for Arthur to sit next to me. "Since Eric and I clearly can't be expected to work to support all of you, especially since I'm not sure how many of you guys we're going to _get_," I sighed. "You need to get jobs. All the stuff I've circled are jobs you can do," I told France. "But then I got stuck for England because...well...your manual didn't give me that many choices."

France plopped down on my other side and leaned over to read England's manual in favour of the newspaper. "Ohonhon~, I think _mon lapin_ would do very well as a pole dance-!" The book in Arthur's hands suddenly found itself thrown at France's face with great force.

"I was thinking of the policeman option," I said. "But the waiter option sounds pretty good too. And you'll be out of danger."

"What about the exorcist option?"

I shrugged. "I thought about it," I told him. "But then I realised that I didn't want my neighbours attacking us with holy water every time we stepped out of the house." And I didn't want him to accidentally bring anything home. I did not need to go downstairs at night and see the grudge clinging to my ceiling. I'd have to move.

He hummed. "Point taken." In the end, we decided that France would sit for a job interview at this romantic-themed patisserie, and England would try for a position at this super fancy Victorian-themed restaurant. I thought it was nice of karma to make such perfect jobs appear. Knowing these two, there was no way they wouldn't be accepted.


	5. Sunflowers Everywhere

**I have so many ideas for this fanfic that's I literally dream of Hetalia at night. I am literally in love with the world right now. Note that this fic is not romantic whatsoever, just pure, platonic friendship and all that platonic fluff stuff.**

**I don't own anything!**

**Sunflowers Everywhere**

I was right. About them getting the jobs I mean. It didn't take too long, actually.

**Earlier That Day**

"_Voila_, a Café liégeois," France held out the delicious looking dessert plate out to one of the female chefs that had been assigned to watch over his work. He smiled charmingly and looked up at her from beneath his lashes. "For you, _ma petite chaton_."

"Bloody frog," England muttered under his breath beside me. I just sighed and facepalmed as the formerly stern, but rather pretty and vaguely middle-aged woman began to blush and giggle like she had just reverted back to being a schoolgirl.

_At least he's done._

**A Little Later**

"Well, he looks like he'd fit the bill…" The owner of the restaurant eyed Arthur. She was a short, slightly chubby woman with a touch of grey at the temples. She was dressed rather classily, in a smart suit and heels. Her words were clipped and professional. "But we do need a certain type of charm here."

I left England to his interview and let my eyes wander around the place for a bit. This place did look like it would be a bit pricey, but the aura was certainly very…British. Arthur would feel right at home here.

_Being the personification of all things British, he ought to. _I turned back to them, in time to see Arthur pick up the woman's fallen pen and hand it back to her with a smile. "I believe you dropped this, love," he said in the most charming British accent I had ever heard.

…

…

…

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Allie?"

"I think she's fainted."

**Back to Present**

So, yeah, all of that happened. England did look good in the uniform though. The manual was right about that…

They started that very day (after the woman had woken up from her brief, hot-British-guy induced coma), which gave me some time to myself. I didn't have any classes that day, due to my teacher being really sick so he'd decided to stay home. He had e-mailed us the topics, some notes and then the research we were supposed to do for the next class.

Mondays, contrary to popular belief, were pretty good days for me. I only had one class. Granted it was three hours long, but it could be worse.

I walked back home alone and grabbed my laptop to check my e-mails. As I was scrolling through the notes and pointers, I suddenly remembered what I'd been trying to find out a few days ago. I quickly opened a new tab and typed in _Hetalia Manuals Flying Mint Bunny Corporation _into the search bar.

As the results popped up, however, the doorbell rang. _What the-? Who the hell could that b-no. No. No. NO!_ Right outside my door was, you guessed it, Shawn. And what was next to Shawn? A giant crate. He rang the doorbell again. "Hello, anybody home?"

"No," I snapped.

"That's funny because I'm sure I heard your voice."

"I'm dead. This is my ghost. Go away now," I glared at the door and tried to will him back into his truck and away from my door.

I heard him sigh through the door. "Look, will you just sign for this thing? I have other deliveries to make." _Other delieveries?_ I jumped down from my seat and opened the door so I could sign for the crate.

"Do you have to deliver units to other people too?" I asked him curiously as I handed back the signer pad thing. _Do other people get units too? I wonder how they're coping…_

Shawn shook his head and took the pad back from me. "Nah, just basic Hetalia fan stuff," he explained. "Flying Mint Bunny hats, Hetalia shirts, books etcetera," he wheeled the crate into the room (why was it covered in chains?). "Well, good luck!" He handed me the manual in the manila envelope. "Trust me, you'll need it with this one."

"What?" But he had already left. I glanced down at the envelope in my hands, and quickly unsealed it. Inside was a lilac-coloured booklet. Judging by the colour, I already had a pretty good idea of who I had just received.

_Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of an IVAN BRAGINSKY Unit!_

_Shit. ShitshitshitshitshitSHIT! _Look, I loved Russia, I really did. He was my favourite Hetalian and one of my favourite love interests in any Reader-insert and OC-based stories. Unfortunately, he was also really creepy and kind of nuts. Therefore, while I loved him and his childish face to bits, I was also really terrified of him.

_Okay, calm down Allie,_ I told myself. _Relax. First things first: get the bat._ I grabbed my bat from my room._ Next, look through manual for the least threatening method of waking him up. _I did so. I didn't have to look for long, since the first option was the most appealing.

I quickly scampered away and hid behind one of the couches. I could understand a bit of Russian, as Eric seemed to have adopted that language the way I had taken on French, so I knew how to speak the word in the manual. I took a deep breath. " _браt!_"

There was silence for a minute, and then the crate started shaking like whoever inside was trembling rather violently. A teary voice came out from it. "нет_, _go away Natalya!" I blinked. It always made me wonder how a giant like Russia, wielding a metal faucet pipe, actually managed to be scared of his little sister. I mean, yeah, Belarus was one scary-ass woman with knives but _come on_. He could stand up for himself, couldn't he? He wasn't one of the largest countries in the world for nothing!

Besides, incest was totally wrong and completely warped and shouldn't be allowed, period.

I quickly ran over to the box and unhooked the chains and nails from the top. Seeing as the crate was pretty tall, I had to drag a stool over so I could stand on it and reach the top. As soon as the crate was open, I found myself nearly face to face with a pair of lilac eyes set in a childish-yet-mature face. I blinked. He blinked. And then I spoke. "Uh...hi?"

"You are not Natalya," he commented after another second of silence.

I shook my head. "No, I'm Alexandra," I watched him get out of the crate. "But you can call me Alex, or Allie, or any other non-insulting nickname that you come up with."

He nodded, and then stared at me. I stared back, taking in the remarkable similarity between this person and Hetalia Russia (although I really shouldn't have been so surprised by now), and then I hopped off the stool. _Goddamn…_This guy was a giant. At least, compared to me he was. He was a good foot taller than I was, plus some inches.

He broke the silence with a giggle and a hand on the top of my head. "You are quite short, are you not?"

_Your hand is crushing my head. _"That's not my fault!" I pouted. "I got the short genes, and Eric got the tall ones." Eric was just six feet, which still made Russia the tallest in the house. "And if you don't stop patting me, I'm going to lose a few more inches!" The last time Latvia had tried that, Russia had pulled him like a medieval torture device.

Fortunately, I had a bat. At any rate, that didn't happen to me. "Alright, comrade," Russia removed his hand from the top of my head and replaced it at his side. _That sort of hurt,_ I rubbed the top of my head and eyed him curiously and warily. _This could be harder and more painful than I thought._

I huffed and stared at his box of stuff. According to the manual, there was vodka in there. I suppose I had to make space in the fridge for it somehow. The cupboards were already filled up with Italy's packets of pasta. "Anyway, do you want to go pick your room now, or are you hungry?"

Russia eyed me out of those beautiful, yet strangely coloured eyes. "I would like to be picking my room, да?"

"Okay," I turned and gestured for him to follow me up the stairs. "We already have Italy, France, England and America staying here," I pointed to each room in turn. "Plus my room and my brother's room." _Damn, we are seriously running out of living space here. Maybe a few of these units should consider rooming together._ I could not imagine any of them agreeing without putting up a fight. Maybe Italy could just move to my room since he slept there every night anyway.

"Америка is here?" I could pretty much feel the purple miasma surrounding Russia at the mention of Alfred. The quiet _kolkolkol_ of his laughter was also pretty cheery too (not). "That is nice. I look forward to smashing his head in with my pipe and watching him bleed. If he dies, then I get great pleasure smile!"

I sweatdropped at the complete cheeriness of his voice in the not-at-all cheery statement. "Okay, there will be _no_ smashing in of any body parts," I told him. "Apart from being very dangerous, blood is also really difficult to get out of fabrics." Ivan just smiled at me like he had no intention of obeying a single thing I'd just said. I would just have to convince him later.

The room he chose (when I pointed it out to him) was painted a summery shade of yellow. I was going to repaint it since I didn't really care for yellow (it was far too bright), but I was glad I had decided not to. Ivan looked very happy with the colour.

"There's a florist nearby," I told him with a smile as I stood in the doorway and watched him walk inside and gaze around the bedroom with pleased eyes. "You can buy sunflowers from there to decorate the place."

Russia put down the small crate that held his things, and then turned to me. "спасибо_,_ comrade Alexandra," he suddenly lifted me up in a bone-crushing hug. I mean that in the most literal way possible. It hurt. "Ah, you _are _small," he commented. "I wonder how it would feel to break all your bones…"

In spite of being really terrified, and in pain, I managed to scowl and glare at Russia. "Stop it," I snapped. "I just did something nice for you, dammit! You know what it feels like to be small and bullied. How would you feel if you were treated like this?"

He didn't say anything for a second, and then I felt the pressure around me loosen and disappear. Air rushed into my chest and I gasped for breath as my lungs expanded to take in the air my body needed. Ivan stared at me silently. In spite of the smile on his face, his eyes seemed serious and slightly sad. "I have hurt you, да?" I nodded slowly, because I wasn't really sure what to say. "Я извиняюсь. I am sorry, comrade. You are right. I wish to be friends with you, да?"

I smiled slightly, and then I realised that he was holding me under my arms like you might hold a young child. _Damn, is he strong or am I just light?_ I decided that the answer was probably a mixture of both. "Meh, it's alright," I told him. "I want to be friends with you too. Just…don't hurt me. Or my twin brother."

"да," Ivan nodded, and then he put me down.

We stared at each other silently, and then I tilted my head to the side. "So...how do you feel about chocolate brownies?"

* * *

oOo

* * *

"_Ve~, sorella!_"

"_Yo, sidekick, your hero's back!_"

"_Ma Cherie, I brought you a treat!_"

"_Frog, she doesn't want any of your French crap!_"

I looked up from my laptop when all the others poured in through the door, with my twin bringing up the rear. He sighed loudly. "Yes, twin sister, the crazies and I are back," he sniffed the air. "Hey, did you make brownies today?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but we ate most of them so there aren't a lot left." I accepted Italy's kisses on both cheeks, and slung an arm around him when he cuddled up next to me.

Eric nodded in understanding, and then he frowned. "Wait, who's _we_?"

"Oh yeah," I chuckled nervously, and glanced at the kitchen out of the corner of my eyes. "You see, we sort of got a new unit while you guys were all out." _Please don't panic._ I pulled Italy closer to my side just in case he did freak.

"Really, Cherie?" France asked. He handed me a cake wrapped in pretty tissue paper with red hearts all over it and then settled himself on my other side. "Who was it then?"

"Um...well..." I unwrapped the tissue and took a bite of the cake to stall for time. "Freak, this is good. Did you make this? This is amazing," I licked up a bit of icing from my fingers. He laughed that particularly French laugh at my excitement.

"подсолнечное," Ivan stuck his head out of the kitchen, much to the shock of everyone (except me). "I cannot find my supply of vodka. Ah," his eyes fixed on the other countries and his smile widened even more. "всем привет_!_"

The screams of terror were pretty unanimous, simultaneous, and really loud. "SACRE BLEU, IT'S HIM!" France and England dived behind the couch like they were taking cover from an exploding bomb.

"VE~, SORELLA, SAVE ME!" Italy wrapped his arms around my neck and tried to clamber even closer to me. He somehow ended up on my lap _ve_-ing uncontrollably in terror.

America was the only country that acted in a less terrified manner. "YOU DAMN COMMIE, YOU BETTER NOT HAVE DONE ANYTHING TO MY SIDEKICK!" With that, he picked me up (which made Italy whimper even more now that he didn't have me to hug like a protective shield) and glared at Russia.

Ivan cocked his head to the side and smiled. "What? But Alexandra is my comrade, is she not?"

"HELL NO! SHE IS MY SIDEKICK! DON'T TRY CONTAMINATING HER WITH YOUR COMMUNIST GERMS!"

I sighed. "Does it help if I tell you that Russia stopped being communist almost twenty years ago?" I asked. America paused mid-rant, and stared down at me blankly. "I did study world history between 1945 to the early 2000s in high school," I explained. "Now, could you please put me down and could everyone please stop panicking?"

After a lot more wrangling, everyone more or less calmed down. Italy stuck closer to me now that there was a scary presence in the house, but Ivan seemed to have calmed down. He did do that scary laughter thing for a few minutes, but then I found him the supply of vodka that had come in his crate and had that calmed him down.

He and Eric seemed to have bonded a bit over their shared language, which annoyed America a lot ("Why does my citizen know such an unheroic language?"). I talked to Russia about possible jobs, but none of the jobs on the manual seemed to really interest him. I couldn't pay him to be my bodyguard, and drinking was not a career (although it could be fun at some point). The athlete option seemed pretty good, but if he got scouted and became famous that could cause a few privacy issues.

In the end, I told him I'd take him to that florist I was telling him about earlier and see if he could get a job there. "They sell a lot of sunflowers now, since it's still summer," I told him.

"спасибо_,_ подсолнечное_._" I knew what the word meant. My brother spoke Russian, and I'd read enough Hetalia fanfics to know that it was a term of affection that Russia used (since he loved sunflowers so much). I quite liked it.

_I wonder how many units we're going to get from these guys._

* * *

**Translations**

**Café liégeois: **(French) A cold dessert made from lightly sweetened coffee, coffee flavour ice cream and Chantilly cream

**брат: **(Russian) Brother

**нет: **(Russian) No

**да: **(Russian) Yes

**Америка**: (Russian) America

**спасибо**: (Russian) Thank you

**Я извиняюсь**: (Russian) I am sorry

**подсолнечное: **(Russian) Sunflower

**всем привет**: (Russian) Hello everyone

**I am going to end up learning a lot of foreign words because of this story. I got the translations from Google Translate, so if I made a mistake please let me know! Review as well!**


	6. The Awesome Me Has Arrived!

**I think I may be loosing momentum with this story. In all honesty, it was probably just the plot bunny of several hours worth of reading manual fics, and now that plot bunny has hopped away.**

**I don't own Hetalia, or any of the manuals!**

**The Awesome Me Has Arrived!**

When I woke up the next morning, it was to a the warm feeling of someone cuddling into my neck behind me, and also to a pair of amethyst eyes staring right at me. The first was pretty nice, the second…not so much.

I blinked, and blinked again, and then I realised what was going on and I screamed. "HOLY FRICK-FRACK!" I yelped as I shoved myself away from the person kneeling beside my bed. In doing so, I ended up nearly shoving Feli off the bed. The Italian woke up and proceeded to do his signature _ I surrender _rant. "IVAN, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?" I yelled at him. And then I remembered something. "Wait, didn't I lock the door?"

I had started locking my doors after the whole France incident. I didn't think he would try it again, but you never know…

"Oh, da, you did," his smile grew wider. I leaned to the side slightly and saw my door had been neatly broken off its hinges and placed carefully to the side. My eyes widened. _How the flip did I sleep through that?! Well, I am a very deep sleeper._ I had once slept through a thunderstorm which had blown down a nearby power pylon.

I sighed and wondered whether I had the nails and tools required to fix my door again. _Or I'll just get Eric and Alfred to do it. Yeah... _"Calm down, Feli," I patted the trembling Italian on the head (being mindful of his curl) to soothe him. "Relax, I'm here."

Even though he still seemed nervous due to the presence of the larger and much creepier male, Italy relaxed against my back.

I turned back to Ivan. The man was still standing there and smiling cheerily. You know, one of these days I was going to need to ask him about his need to have this perpetual smile. But, for now, there were other questions on my mind. "Russia, why are you in my room though?" I glared up at Ivan. "What was so important that you felt compelled to break my door open? And where are America and England, and France?" How had my resident hero ignored that?!

He cocked his head to the side and smiled childishly. "_Они оставили. _They all went to work," he explained. "I was alone so I came to wake you up, but then I liked watching you sleep. You are so vulnerable and easy to take advantage of," he began _kolkol_-ing while I stared at him with wide eyes because, seriously, _what the fuck dude?_

Behind me, Italy began _ve-_ing uncontrollably out of sheer fear. I patted him again and just stared up at Russia silently. "That is all sorts of creepy," I finally commented. "Please don't do that again. You're going to fix my door since you broke it."

"_Kolkolkolkol…_"

"Don't think you can creepy-laugh your way out of this one!" I snapped. "Also, please stop that. I think Italy's going to pass out." The Italian had climbed under my bed and I could almost feel his trembling through the mattress. "Go wait outside while I get ready. We'll go to that florist I mentioned earlier."

In the end, I got him to wait outside my door while I coaxed Feli out of his hiding place with the promise of pasta when he came home from work. After that, he launched himself at me in a flying hug-tackle. "Ve~, _mia sorella è la migliore_!"

For breakfast, I toasted several slices of bread for the three of us, and buttered them up before they got too cold. I also made tea to drink for myself. _Arthur has already been at my tea,_ I noted as I gazed into the significantly reduced box of Earl Grey. _Ah well, I was thinking of getting a new type soon anyway. _Even though I loved Earl Grey to bits, there were other types of tea out there.

_Wow I act so British sometimes_. Ah well, British people are cool. I love history, and the Victorian era was a pretty fantastic time to learn about. I mean, maybe not so awesome to _live_ in, but awesome to read about. The fashion, the mystery, it was the time that inspired all steampunk-related things!

Well, that and the Wild West, which was pretty awesome too.

I brewed myself a cup of tea and dusted a few stray toast crumbs that had ended up on Feli's upper lip. "Be careful," I chastised gently. He made that cute sound and blushed slightly at my attention. I lifted my teacup to my lips (yes, a teacup) and took a sip of my tea. _England would be so proud of me! _

As I was lowering the cup, I noticed Russia pulling something out from his coat. I blinked. _Is that…is that vodka? _It was. Why he was carrying around a bottle of vodka so early in the day, I did not know. I get that Russian 'water' is actually vodka, but come on! Just because they're both transparent…

"Oh, no, you are not drinking vodka for breakfast!" I grabbed the bottle before he could. "Drink tea, drink coffee, drink hot chocolate, but people typically do _not _drink vodka so early in the morning."

Ivan blinked at me. For a minute I wondered if I had gone too far and just signed my very own death warrant at the hands of a slightly insane Russian, and then he shrugged and complied. "в порядке…"

_Huh, he agreed surprisingly quickly. _I put his vodka back on the table and made him a mug of coffee. Personally, I cannot stand coffee. It's too bitter, and it tastes like coal tar (or maybe that's just how my brother makes it). Besides, I'm not into being a caffeine addict like Eric. The last time we ran out of coffee he went _nuts_. I found him lying under our dining table with his teddy bear. His pupils were dilated, and he was acting slightly stoned.

I handed the steaming mug to the giant. He took it from me. "спасибо," he smiled, and then grabbed his bottle and poured a generous helping of the vodka into the black liquid, and then he turned to me with an even brighter smile. "This is fine, right comrade?"

The slight purple miasma around him told me that disagreeing with him would not be in my best interests, so I nodded nervously and went back to sipping my tea while comforting the once-again frightened Italian. Ivan drank his now-spiked coffee in peace.

Italy left for work as soon as the last bite of toast had been eaten (by him). While I was washing up the breakfast things, I heard a knock at the door. "Comrade Alex, there is someone at the door. Shall I grab my pipe in case it is needed to bloody them up?" Ivan asked me cheerfully.

I sweatdropped. "No, Ivan, I don't think that's really necessary." After all, I didn't want people to start talking about how I had a crazy Russian man, who liked to attack people with a bloodied metal pipe, living with me. _I also don't want them to comment on the French guy that keeps hitting on people, or the American with the obnoxious laugh, or…generally any of my units. _

Ivan shrugged and went back to gulping down the last of his coffee while I got the door. It was Shawn and his Flying Mint Bunny paraphernalia. "Hey, you're not dead!" He beamed brightly. "That's great!"

His sunny attitude annoyed me. My left eye twitched. "Yeah," I replied sarcastically. "No thanks to you though."

"Aw, don't be like that," he smiled at me cheerfully. "You look fine and relatively unscarred so you must be doing well!"

I rolled my eyes and glanced at the crate beside him, which Ivan was looking at with curiousity (after he was done directing that creepy _I-look-cute-right-LOL-I-could break-your-spinal-cord-with-my-pipe_ smile at Shawn). "Who is it this time?" I asked as I signed the signer-pad-thing and moved aside to let him push it into the house.

"Can't tell you," Shawn shrugged. "Company policy. Well, good luck! I see you're getting along very well with Russia, so you should be fine with any others! See you when the nest unit comes!" And with that, he drove off.

"Who is it, comrade?" Ivan asked, peering over my head. I pulled open the manila envelope to reveal a similar manual to Ivan's, except this one was white. I flipped it open.

_Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of a GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT Hetalia Unit!_

_Goddammit, _I glared down at the paper. One more member of the BTT to go. Why couldn't I have gotten Spain? Even if he was a member of their little group, he was cute and probably the least perverted of the three. Instead, I'd gotten Prussia, the King of Awesome with the recurring _awesome five meters_ joke.

"Comrade?" Russia leaned over me, and my mind flashed back to my history classes, and all the episodes of Hetalia that I'd watched. _Prussia doesn't like Russia. Therefore, the two of them meeting would be bad. It's too early in the morning to deal with this._ So I did the next best thing.

I snapped the manual shut and grabbed the empty mug out of Ivan's hands. "Come on, I have to take you to the florist, right? If you want to start working today, we have to go right now!"After a lot more wrangling, I managed to distract Russia from the unit in the box.

The getting him a job part was significantly harder, especially since the owner giving him the interview looked really intimidated by the large Russian man. However, she decided to hire him after she saw how much he liked being around the flowers.

"Alright, Ivan," I warned him before I left. "No threatening, no pipe, no vodka, no creepy-miasma-thing and _no_ intimidation of any kind," I stared up at him. "Especially the pipe," I added. "Unless, you know, the shop is being robbed and they need someone to get rid of the bad guys. Then it's alright."

Ivan frowned/pouted. "но подсолнечника,I do not want to not be able to drink vodka," he stared down at me. I thought for a little while, and then sighed.

"Hold on," I jogged across the street where there was a vending machine and bought a bottle of water. "Quick, give me your vodka," when he handed it to me, I dumped all the water into one of the plants and then poured the vodka into the now empty bottle. "Voila!" I handed it back to him. "Just…don't let anyone have any, alright?" He nodded excitedly.

_Now, for the unit I left at home. The Awesome Prussia,_ my head pulsed slightly in acknowledgement of the migraine I was sure to get in a few hours._ I really wish I'd gotten Spain. He's cute, and he likes to eat tomatoes and he cooks! Plus, he isn't as perverted as the others._

_Or is he?_ I considered the notion as I made my way to my front doors. _I mean, he is Spanish. _Was that racist of me? Spanish men, along with Italians, did have that sort of stereotype. And Hetalia was all about stereotypes, right? _Well, Feli isn't a tall, tanned, muscular stud. Sure he's flirty, but that's about it. He's super cute though, and not bad-looking._

I unlocked the door with a sigh and eyed the crate curiously. It was exactly where I had left it, in the exact condition I had left it. _Well, I can't leave him in there all day,_ I grabbed the manual from where I had dropped it and flipped to the page that explained how to wake up said unit. _Let's see here,_ I scanned through the options.

Pour beer on the lid. _I don't drink. _Eric did but he was super protective of his beer stash (even though beer is disgusting in my opinion). _I'll keep it in mind though._

Australian apple strudel or playing the piano. _I guess he'll think I'm Austria, huh? Unfortunately, my culinary talents do not stretch that far, and I don't play the piano well enough for him to confuse the two of us._

Talk in Russian, use Russian terms, basically act like Russia. _I really don't want to traumatize the guy the second he gets out! I'm nicer than that!_

Activate the Gilbird Unit. _Well this seems relatively sane and non-harmful to my person. I'll do it!_ I put down the manual and began rootling through the box that contained all the things that came with the unit. In the corner I spotted a small wooden cage, inside which was a cute yellow bird. "Aw," I smiled.

My voice must have woken it up because it chirped once. I opened the cage and it began to fly around in circles above my head while chirping.

Suddenly…

_CRASH!_

"KESESESESE! THE AWESOME PRUSSIA HAS ARRIVED!" I had yelped and dived behind the couch the second the crate had cracked and nearly blown apart. _Why does this seem so familiar?_ "Kesese, hello mein awesome bird!" There was more chirping, and then Gilbird settled on his owner's head.

I poked my head out from behind the couch and stared at him. "Hello," I started. He turned and stared at me, and I was struck by how striking he looked. I mean, blood red eyes, silver-white hair, perfect pale skin. He was like a vampire (but not the useless Twilight ones). You couldn't miss someone like Gilbert anywhere he went. He stuck out.

That still didn't give him the right to be so narcissistic though. It also didn't give him the right to do that signature hissing chuckle and then eye me up and down like a piece of meat. "Hey, you're pretty hot. Wanna see my awesome five meters?"

_Thwack!_

"No," I glared down at his prone form. "I'm good." Gilbird fluttered around his head, which made the scene look slightly cartoonish.

After a few seconds of just lying there, he groaned and glared up at me. "You hit hard for a girl," his accent was guttural, but not unpleasant. "Almost like Hungary. I like it. So what's your name, frau?"

I rested the bat on my shoulder and smiled at him. "I'm Alexandra, but you can call me Allie, or whatever non-insulting nickname you come up with. Please note that _sorella_, love, sidekick and sunflower are already taken."

He frowned at the last one, and then muttered something in a flurry of angry German, and then he grinned. "In that case, I'll call you Alex." I nodded. It sounded short and simple, I supposed, even though he was the first person to ever call me that. Most of my friends and family thought it sounded too masculine for me. "Now, tell me you've got beer," he cracked his knuckles and looked in the general direction of the kitchen. "And it better be the awesome German kind, not any of that unawesome American beer!"

_Unawesome is not a word. _I sweatdropped and turned to go into the kitchen. "I wouldn't know," I shrugged. "I don't drink. Eric drinks though," I grimaced. He wasn't even legal. He got beer from one of his friends who was. I didn't condone it, but he was an adult right? He made his own decisions now.

Gilber frowned at me. "You don't drink?" He scoffed. "How unawesome." I shrugged uncaringly and opened the fridge, then I gestured for Prussia to pick whichever one he wanted. Eric kept his beer near the bottom of the fridge because I didn't like looking at it whenever I went to get food.

After eying the cans for a few seconds, Prussia zeroed in on a brand that suited him. He popped the lid and began to chug it down. It was a while before he finally paused to breathe and belch. While he drank, I shut the fridge and wandered back to the front room. There were pieces of crate all over the place, and I set to work picking them up.

The Prussian followed me and watched me clean. "Hey," he stared at me. "You said you didn't drink, so why do you have beer? Who's Eric, your boyfriend?" He taunted.

I shot him a blank look, and rolled my eyes. "Not likely," I scoffed. "Eric is my twin brother. We live together, even though he's out most of the time. He should be back later." _Unless he decides to go clubbing. If he does, I hope he calls first so I can drive him home._

Gilbert made a sound in the back of his throat, and then started laughing. "Kesesese, of course! An unawesome girl like you obviously wouldn't have a boyfriend!"

I stared up at him silently, and debated smacking him upside the head with my bat. Then I decided that the insult wasn't that big of a deal and I huffed. "Says the guy who thought I was hot not ten minutes ago."

He just shrugged and grinned. "You were the one staring at me earlier," he smirked.

_Oh yeah, I was wasn't I? But it wasn't because I was checking him out though. _I lifted my arms in a shrug. "I was just considering thinking that you're nice to look at," I said this without blushing because I wasn't embarrassed. "Don't let it go to your already big head."

"Oh, so you don't deny it?" He cackled. "Does that mean you _do_ want to see my awesome five meters?"

_Thwack!_

* * *

**Translations**

**Они оставили **\- (Russian) They left

**Mia sorella è la migliore **\- (Italian) My sister is the best

**в порядке - **(Russian) Alright/Okay

**спасибо** \- (Russian) Thank you

**но подсолнечника** \- (Russian) But sunflower


	7. English Cooks and Spanish Men

**English Cooks and Spanish Men**

That's pretty much how the day went. I eventually locked myself in my room just so I could get some peace and quiet for a while, but when I came down again Gilbert had managed to destroy the kitchen stove in an attempt to make lunch for himself. Why he hadn't just _called_ for me, I would never know.

At least the rest of the kitchen was clean. Who knew that underneath that irresponsibleness lurked a clean-freak? I forgot that he and Germany had that in common.

After that, he badgered me to make something with wurst, but I didn't have any worst, so he just badgered me to make something with potatoes, so I made hash browns which he chomped down with a lot of gusto while vocalizing his approval loudly in German and guzzling down two more cans of beer.

Finally, _finally_, the other units came home. America was the first through the door: "Yo, sidekick!" The front door flew open, revealing said hero bearing a bag of McDonalds (I was going to have to talk to him about healthy eating at some point). Behind him were France and England. Those two got off at the same time, and America got off at some unknown time, but the three of them always managed to come back at about the same time.

_It's nearly complete, _I thought as I stared at them silently. _I just need Matthew and then I'll have a complete FACE family!_

I couldn't wait to get my baby Canadian. I would make sure to always remember his name, and never forget his presence, and smack anyone who dared sit on him upside the head with my bat. And then the two of us could eat pancakes and maple syrup while making fun of Justin Bieber and hugging the shit out of his fuzzy bear with the super long name that I cannot remember.

Ah well, I wasn't alone. Canada usually couldn't remember his name either.

Anyway, back to what was going on. I waved at Alfred. "Hi hero," I chirped. "As you can see, there is a man passed out here," I gestured to Gilbert's unconscious form on the ground in front of the couch I was sitting on. "Try not to step on him. We got a new unit today," I added as a bit of an afterthought. "That's him, by the way."

America began to cackle loudly while England just stared as France rushed over to his friend and began trying to rouse him while speaking in a mix of French and English. "_Mon amie, are you alright?_ What did you do to _ma Cherie_?"

Gilbert groaned and sat up. "I just asked _mein frau_ if she wanted to see my awesome five meters!" He frowned at me. "And then she hit me with the bat."

England scoffed and wandered over to one of the seats. _I need to take all of them shopping at some point,_ I thought absently. "Well of course, you git," Arthur rolled his eyes. "It's rude to proposition a lady, such as Alexandra, in such a crass manner."

_You're so nice! _I gazed at Arthur silently. The perfect English gentleman. "_Mais oui_," France was suddenly by my side holding out a rose. "You must use charm and subtlety to tease, _am I right?_" He handed me the rose, and then I noticed that it looked too shiny and smelled faintly like some sort of candy.

It was. It was candy. _I love these guys._ The way to a woman's heart is through her stomach. America grinned and patted me on the head. "I can't believe my sidekick hit Gilbert with a bat!" He laughed. "Dude, that was so awesome! High five me!" And thus, we high-fived. I think I was getting used to his overzealous slaps.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Italy flew in. "_Sorella!_"

*tackle glomp*

"_Veveveveve~_" he sat, half on my lap, half on the couch, and placed cheery kisses on both my cheeks. "Ve~, _hello sorella_, how was your day? I had so much fun today! Can I tell you about it? Can we have pizza? Oh, did anything happen? Ah," he suddenly seemed to notice Gilbert on the ground. "_Ciao_ Gilbert! Did you just arrive? Have you met _mi sorella_? _Ve,_ isn't she pretty?"

The other units stared blankly as Feli prattled and I patted the adorable Italian on the head. "_Ciao_ Italy," I pecked him on the cheek and he grinned cheerily.

Gilbert scoffed and turned to France. "How come he's allowed to do that?"

I levelled the albino with a pointed glare. "Are you cute and sweet? No. Also, he is my other _fratello_, and therefore is allowed to cuddle me whenever he wants." Not that Eric was allowed to cuddle me, it's just that Feliciano was a thousand times cuter. Speaking of which, where was my actual brother? "And yes, we can have pizza. What toppings?"

Something I will never forget ever again, is that when you ask a bunch of culturally diverse people what toppings they want on a pizza, chances are they will not agree on anything. This was why I eventually ordered three half-half pizzas (different toppings on each half). "Next time, we're doing luck of the draw," I sighed once I had finished placing the order. "Ah, that reminds me," I blinked. "Where's Ivan?"

Prussia's expression got a bit darker, but he didn't say anything. America leaned against me on the couch and stared at me out of annoyed blue eyes. "He's probably out corrupting other citizens and turning them into communist slaves."

"Russia isn't Communist anymore," I pointed out, not for the first time, just as the door flew open again and said man stepped inside. He was holding a bouquet of sunflowers in one arm, and he used the other hand to shut the door. "Oh, hi Ivan!"

"Hello comrade," he replied. "Did I hear Amerika saying something stupid?"

America jumped up from the couch and glared at the Russian man angrily. "Say that to my face commie!" _Please don't start. This evening was calm before. Can't we all just get along?_ "And stay away from my sidekick!"

"Like I have said, Amerika," Ivan sighed. "Alexandra is my comrade as well. We are friends, yes?" He directed this question at me, to which I nodded and resumed stroking Italy's back. "Are you stupid as well as fat? Of course, I still would not mind breaking your face with my pipe!"

"Bring it on commie!"

Prussia cheered. "I'm with America!"

"Oh, Kalingrad, you are here as well?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Can't we all just get along?" I yelled in the midst of all the voices, and then I discerned the sound of the doorbell ringing. "Oh, pizzas here!" I ducked underneath the brawling males and made my way to the door, sidestepping some shoes, and picking up the fallen bouquet of flowers. "Hello!" I chirped at the guy when I opened the door.

"I have an order here for Alexandra Clare?" Behind me, I heard the sound of someone screaming profanities. "Uh, is everything okay?" He looked just a tad bit worried.

I waved a hand airily at the interior of the house. "What? Of course! Just a few roommates getting used to one another. OI, YOU GUYS!" I screamed into the house. "KEEP IT DOWN, I'M TRYING TO PAY FOR THE PIZZA! ALFRED, ALFRED PUT DOWN MY TABLE! PUT IT DOWN OR NO MORE MCDONALDS! I'M SERIOUS!"

"But Allie...!"

"NO! WE NEED THAT TABLE TO EAT! WAIT, GILBERT PUT FELI DOWN! PUT MY BABY DOWN, YOU CANNOT USE HIM TO HIT IVAN!" I turned and directed my most normal smile at the pale delivery guy. "Yeah, sorry about that. How much do I owe you?"

In all honesty, he looked about ready to run away screaming, but he managed to stutter out a price and I dug my hand into my jean pockets for my wallet. "Dammit, must be in my jacket. OI, FRANCIS, COULD YOU STOP FEELING UP ARTHUR FOR A MINUTE AND FETCH MY JACKET? DO YOU WANT PIZZA OR NOT? THEN GO GET MY JACKET! NO I WILL NOT REWARD YOU FOR THAT YOU FREAKING PERVERT!"

Eric chose that moment to arrive home, and fortunately he was sober. My twin brother stared at the house, and then at me. "...what did I miss? Ooh, are we getting pizza? What sort did you order?"

I shrugged. "Three half-and-halfs, so there's some chicken, pepperoni, beef, and some other stuff. Just need to pay for it."

"Don't worry, I got it," Eric whipped out his wallet and dumped two ten dollar bills in the kid's hands. "Keep the change."

"Thanks for the pizza!" I called after him as he practically scrambled to his motorcycle and zoomed away. "I get the feeling things are gonna be like that for the foreseeable future." Eric nodded in agreement, and then we both walked into the house to find a scene of near carnage.

Ivan and America were wrestling on the ground, with the Russian's pipe at America's windpipe, and Alfred's hands at his throat. Prussia was cheering on America with another can of beer. Arthur was huddled on the couch as far away from Francis as possible, who seemed to have resumed his activities after fetching my wallet. Italy was hunched under the coffee table, waving a white flag and surrendering in very loud, jumbled Italian.

And yet, all of that stopped when I raised the boxes of pizza into the air. "PIZZA'S HERE!"

Ten minutes later, we were all sitting in the room with the boxes of pizza and no one was fighting! Well, Ivan wanted me to sit with him (as it turned out, the sunflowers were for me) but Alfred yelled something about protecting his precious sidekick. In order to avoid another all out brawl, Eric had yanked me next to him.

I sighed when I chomped down my third pizza slice. "Alright, I think we need to lay down a few ground rules once again," I told them. "Alfred, no calling Ivan a communist. Ivan, no calling Alfred fat. Also, no calling Gilbert Kalingrad." That was apparently a bit of a sore point. "Francis, no feeling up people that do not want to be felt up!"

"_Ohonhon~_, but ma Cherie, how else am I supposed to spread _l'amour_?"

"...I'll repeat it again: don't feel up people that do not want to be felt up. Gilbert, you want beer, you go to Eric," I gestured to my brother. "Arthur, Feli..." I stared at the composed Englishman on the couch and the Italian cuddled into my side. "...you guys are fine."

Arthur grinned smugly. "Why thank you, love."

"Thank you _sorella_!"

"Sidekick, how come Iggy doesn't get any rules!" America pouted at me over the rim of his glasses. "I'm your hero, right? At least make a rule against his awful cooking!"

"Don't call me that! And my cooking is perfectly fine, you insufferable wanker!"

France placed a hand on England's shoulder and shook his head. "_Angleterre,_ there indeed should be a law against _the disgusting slop_ you create."

"You all just don't have any taste!" Arthur replied hotly. "Alexandra would love my cooking, wouldn't you love?" I froze on my seat and pretended to find my pizza incredibly fascinating. Luckily England didn't even wait for my reply. "You'll see, I'll cook something for you tomorrow and you'll love it!"

"_Ve~_, don't kill _mi sorella_!" Feliciano wailed.

Prussia nodded hurriedly. "_Ja_, I mean I haven't known our owner for too long, but she's too hot to die like that!" The other countries voiced their agreement loudly, leaving Arthur to splutter angry retorts right back.

oOo

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of something burning, and Italy clinging to my neck like a frightened koala. "_Ve~_, I tried to stop him!" The Italian cried. "He scares me!"

The door of my room burst open, and America appeared in the doorway. "Never fear, sidekick, the hero will protect you!"

I arched an eyebrow at him and got out of bed. "I thought the hero was only supposed to protect the damsel." Honestly, how bad could Arthur's cooking possibly be? Now that I thought about it, maybe it was just bad in _comparison_. I mean, English people ate and they were still alive. Their food couldn't suck _that_ much.

_Still,_ I stepped into the kitchen and gazed at the clouds of dark smoke that rose from my stove, and the man hurriedly placing something onto a plate from the frying pan. _I really don't want to die._ "Ah, you're just in time," England grinned at me. "I made you breakfast!"

_Well_, I stared at the plate in front of me. _At least the food doesn't look like it will give me salmonella and food poisoning._ By all accounts, it looked pretty normal, even though it wasn't necessarily really breakfast food: fish and chips.

_Don't let me die. There's so much I have yet to accomplish! _I lifted a forkful of the chips to my mouth, but before I could taste them, a body flew down the stairs and slapped the fork out of my hands. "NO, I NEED YOU TO BE ALIVE! IF YOU DIE, WHAT AM I GOING TO TELL MOM?!"

I blinked, and then turned to stare at my brother silently. "Eric, I won't die. I mean, how bad could it be?" Then I saw the way they were all staring at me and I rolled my eyes. "Oh come _on_. Okay, let me just take one bite..." At that moment, the doorbell rang and I glanced pointedly at Eric. "Go get that."

"But-!"

"Go!" He grumbled, but slunk out of the kitchen. "And I'm going to need another fork."

Italy wrapped his arms around my neck. "No, _sorella_, don't eat it! If you die, who's going to hug me and kiss me before I go to sleep?"

"And who's going to watch horror movies with me and be my sidekick?" America yelled. While they were doing all of that, and England was glaring at them like he would explode at any moment, I picked up a bit of the not-as-hot-as-before chips with my fingers and tossed them into my mouth.

I froze, staring at my plate in shock. Behind me, the sound of the countries arguing became muffled, and then I focused on England who was sipping his tea angrily. "...it's nice."

Arthur nearly did a spit-take, but he managed to swallow the liquid down and dissolve in a choking fit. The other countries, on the other hand, began to scream louder. "OH MY GOD, YOUR COOKING DESTROYED HER BRAIN!"

"No, _mi sorella_! What if I make her pasta?"

"_Sacre bleu_, who let _Angleterre _cook?"

"First we must kill England with my pipe for feeding _my sunflower_ his food."

"England, did you kill our not-so-awesome-but-still-hot owner already?!"

"WHO KILLED MY SISTER?!" Eric sprinted back into the kitchen. "ALLIE!"

"SHUT UP!" My voice made them all quiet down. "As you can see, I am still alive, so there will be no killing of anyone. Especially with pipes," I directed that last bit at Ivan who looked a tad bit disappointed. "And another thing," I turned to England. "...you make good fish and chips. I like it."

Arthur stared at me silently for a moment, and then he suddenly glomped me across the table. "THANK YOU!" I yelped, wondering why he'd had such a strong reaction, and then I remembered the manual. _Ah, I must have unlocked his Loving Mode._ Now all I needed to do was be able to see fairies and then we'd be best friends forever.

"Oh yeah," I twisted my head around to stare at Eric. "Who was it anyway?"

My brother looked up from where he was eying the chips suspiciously, and jerked his head to the front room. "We got another one of these guys."

I blinked and tilted my head to the side, not an easy feat considering that England was still huggling me. "Really? Which one?" _Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada...!_

_Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of an ANTONIO FERNANDEZ CARRIEDO Hetalia Unit!_

Ah, Spain. Well that was still pretty good, except now _the entire freaking BTT was going to be assembled in my living room!_

Actually, that sounded pretty epic, let's go for it! "We got Spain!" I called to no one in particular. England started grumbling, which at least got him to release me.

"Yay, big brother Spain!" Feliciano recommenced hugging me. I reached up and stroked his cheek absentmindedly with one hand, and frowned when Gilbert and Francis whooped excitedly and sprinted for the crate.

"Wait, let me read the manual first you freaks!" I ran after them and yanked France away before he could open the crate. "Feli, my bat!" The Italian ran away and returned with the trusty weapon. I didn't think I'd _need_ it, but I liked to have it anyway. "Okay, methods of opening!"

_Let's see...I'm not cooking, and I'm not about to have an England-Spain showdown so early in the day...I don't have a LOVINO VARGAS unit yet and...what the hell is a TOMATO unit? Why can't I just use a real tomato?_

I snapped the manual shut and turned to the two other members of the BTT. "France, Prussia, I'm leaving this to you!"

"_Oui, ma Cherie!_ Oh Spain!" I shuddered slightly at the way Francis was feeling up the box like it was the country itself. "_C'est moi_, your friend Francis!"

Gilbert's method was a bit more effective, in my opinion. He just banged on the wood of the crate while cackling loudly. "Oi, wake up and get your ass out here Antonio!"

After a moment, a muffled but undoubtedly Spanish-accented voice came from inside the box. "_Hola_ my amigos!" He sounded cheerful. "Wow, it's dark in here! Can I get out?"

"Yeah, give me a moment," I loosened the nails at the top of the crate and knocked it loose. "Alright, you're good!" A second later, I was nose to nose with a ridiculously good-looking Spanish man with the prettiest green eyes I'd ever seen, and the whitest smile I'd ever seen outside of a toothpaste commercial. _Damn. _"All my dreams are coming true," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

He beamed at me, apparently not caring about our proximity, so I didn't pay attention to it either. Things are only as awkward as you choose to make them. "_Hola pretty girl!_ _My name is _Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and you are?"

Just as I was about to reply, I was shoved out of the way by my brother. "ALLIE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHO IS THAT? WHY WERE YOUR FACES SO CLOSE? I DON'T LIKE SEEING YOU WITH STRANGE MEN!"

"Eric, you're squishing my lungs..." I gasped for breath when he released me. "Eric, this is Spain, otherwise known as Antonio. Antonio, this is my twin brother Eric. I am Alexandra, pleased to meet you," I held out my hand for a handshake.

The Spanish man that was the personification of all things Spanish bent at the waist, took my hand in his and brushed a kiss against the skin. "_It's a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart._"

_...all my dreams really are coming true._ "STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"


	8. Clothes and Massages

**All translations come from Google Translate, so please correct me if it's wrong. I don't own Hetalia, or sexy Spaniards with magic fingers (why is life like this?)**

**Clothes and Massages**

As I mentioned before, we did need to get the units proper clothes. I didn't need any of them drawing even more attention to themselves than they already did if they had to go out in the army uniforms that they came with (even France, thankfully). They couldn't all fit into Eric's old shirts, and my twin wasn't willing to share his stuff with any members of the BTT because they were perverts. Especially France.

We drew a lot of attention when we stepped into the mall that afternoon, but that was understandable. I mean, heads would turn if a bunch of sexy/cute/good-looking multinational men suddenly walked into a building looking far more excited than they should have. The only normal person there was England, and Russia to some extent.

I checked my watch and levelled them all with a stern _you-will-pay-attention _glare. "Alright, you all have two hours to buy all the clothes you can afford," I instructed, feeling a lot like a mother. "This includes shirts, pants, underwear, and all other necessities. Spain and I will go together." Since the newly-arrived Spanish man did not have a job yet, I would have to buy his stuff for him. "If I have to come looking for you guys after that time, there _will_ be repercussions!"

"_Ohonhonhon~_" France leered at me. "Does that mean you will punish us, _mon petite?_"

I twitched, and then remembered that I hadn't brought my bat with me because of mall security, so I opted to ignore him. "Ignoring that," I turned away. "After two hours, let's meet at the food court. Okay, have fun!"

America was the first to sprint off screaming something about. "AMERICANS RULE!" To the confusion but still patriotic smiles of some other shoppers. England muttered something scathing under his breath and walked off in another direction. Italy gave me a kiss on the cheek, and then walked off while humming something about pasta.

Russia walked off as well, until I was left with the BTT. I blinked up at them. "Why aren't you guys leaving?" I asked, directing my question to the German and French members of the group. "Aren't you going to buy anything?"

Gilbert, who was in the centre of the three, tossed an arm around their shoulders cheerily. "We just wanna hang out with our awesome friend and not-as-awesome-but-still-hot owner." I arched an eyebrow at him. There were too many awesomes in that sentence.

"Right," I drew out the vowel dubiously. "Well, as long as no one does anything stupid. France, stop feeling up Spain." The French country chuckled, but removed his hand from the oblivious Spanish man's behind. "Please don't let this be an omen of things to come," I muttered to myself, before leading them off.

It was actually much worse.

For one, even though Spain was actually less weird and perverted than the other two countries, he was still just as flirty. Plus, he had no problems with assisting them in doing stupid things, like when Gilbert tried to steal coins from the fountain, and then attempted to break the world record for the most hats ever worn by one person and got us thrown out of one of the stores.

"Your hats were unawesome anyway!" He yelled back. I facepalmed and walked away. _I am going to need some tea to get through this. Ah, tea sounds good. Some Earl Grey, or maybe hot chocolate!_ "You guys, I'm heading to the food court." No answer, so I spun around, only to find myself alone. _Oh for the love of-! _"Please don't let them be doing anything stupid..."

I peered around, trying to decide the best direction to start looking (or should I even bother? Eventually the sounds of chaos would alert me to their location) when I spotted a familiar face in one of the nearby shops.

_The Owl's Den_ was one of my favourite bookshops, since it was filled with a huge variety of genres to suit nearly every taste. Fantasy, romance, action, you name it. The shop was also big on magic books, whether fiction or non-fiction, so you can pretty much guess who I caught sight off. "Arthur?"

The man raised his head as though he had heard me, and spotted me through the glass. I quickly made my way into the shop and stopped beside him. "Oh, uh, Alexandra! What are you doing here, love?" He looked mildly embarrassed, and was holding a book titled _Hidden Ones_ behind his back like he had been trying to hide it.

_Cute. _"I lost the BTT," I sighed. Arthur snorted an insult involving Frenchmen, and then I grinned and shrugged. "And then I saw you and decided to come say hello. Whatcha got there?" I cocked my head slightly, trying to see more of the book.

England, as I expected, did not snap at me for butchering his language. Instead, he blushed and held out the book. "It's supposedly a book on how to watch for fairies and the like," he confessed.

_...cute!_ "That sounds cool," I told him. "You know, when I was younger, I read a book like that. For the longest time I was convinced I could _see _fairies, but other teenagers can be mean so I stopped believing," I turned to look at the other books on the shelves, still talking. "I even used to cut out wings from cardboard and pretend I could fly. Good times," I nodded to no one. "Good times."

Arthur stared at me silently for a long moment, and then he hugged me tightly. "We can go looking sometime, love," he told me kindly. "Just the two of us."

"Yay!" I cheered childishly, pulling back. "Now, what other books are there? I love coming here! You know they have books on-!"

Before I could explain _what_ they had books on, the loudspeakers situated in certain places in the mall began to squeal, and a voice came over them.

"_Would the uh...caretaker of Francis Bonnefoy, Gilbert Beilschmidt – THE AWESOME GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT! – please leave the microphone alone sir. Sir, sir, please stop that – ohonhonhon, but I cannot do such a thing! – a-as I was saying, could the caretaker of the aforementioned names, and Antonio Carriedo please make their way to the second floor help desk? I repeat, could the caretaker of..._"

_Ah,_ I blinked up at the ceiling of the store. _I found them. What the hell did they do? _I sweatdropped and exhaled loudly, almost at the same time as Arthur. The blonde muttered something insulting under his breath, before making his way to the cash register to pay for his book, and then following me to the closest escalator.

The three members of the BTT were leaning against the help-desk, and generally doing their own thing; Francis was flirting with the man at the desk, who looked mildly terrified, and was also trying to get Gilbert to stop playing with the microphone. Antonio was standing beside all of them and grinning, while calling out flirtatious Spanish endearments to passing women.

He was the first to spot me. "Ah, _mi cereza_!" He hugged me tightly. The cherry thing was a relatively new development, but I wasn't fighting it.

Francis pulled away from the (relieved) man and beamed at me, and then leered at Arthur. "_Cherie! Mon lapin!_ How do you feel about a fourso-!"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," I cut him off, and then stumbled when Gilbert threw an arm around my shoulders and yanked me to his side. I spotted a can of Red Bull in his other hand and I resisted the urge to facepalm. "How many of those have you had?"

He blinked and glanced at the can. "Five? Maybe? Not enough." I groaned. _Why did they sell him that? _"By the way, Alex, can you get this unawesome person to let us go? I need to stock up on beer before we leave."

I sighed and turned to the man at the help-desk. He blinked at me several times. "Are you in charge of these..." he trailed off, clearly unsure how to refer to the men behind me. "People?"

"Yeah...please don't press charges." I felt myself twitch when Francis started talking about how he _could not let such a lovely body out of his sight _loudly, and in French. "Or you can just press charges against him. No biggie."

"I second that," England muttered. Francis gave an overdramatic gasp and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, crying about how cruel we were, and how he was simply trying to spread _l'amour_ to the masses. The guy at the help-desk looked _really _freaked out then.

I exhaled loudly, and tried for my best apologetic face. "Please don't press charges. We'll be leaving soon anyway. By the way," I blinked. "What did they do anyway?" They had only been gone, max, fifteen minutes.

The man grunted. "The blonde was harassing some of the female shoppers, and feeling up a mannequin. The albino one was trying to steal coins from the fountain, and also harassing some shoppers. The Spanish one...just wouldn't stop touching the tomatoes." I stared at Spain, who had started cooing about how pretty tomatoes were, and how plump and juicy and delicious...yeah...

Apparently some of the shoppers thought that also constituted as harassment. I could sort of see why...

After some more pleading on my part, and then several threats regarding beer and my bat, I finally got the BTT to calm down (mostly). I checked the time on my phone. We had less than an hour left to shop, and I still hadn't bought Spain any clothes. "Alright, Antonio and I are going to buy stuff now. The rest of you..." I debated the pros and cons of asking them to hang around me, versus releasing them back into the mall.

I decided that the former was probably safer. Besides, what if they did something really stupid and got arrested? I'd have to send Eric to bail them out.

France began pawing through the clothes on the racks the second we stepped into a shop. "_Mon ami_, you must try this on!" I eyed the black pair of pants. They looked like they would be a tight fit. "It will make your ass look fantastic~!" _Ah, _so there was his ulterior motive to helping me shop. "_Cherie,_ _try this!_" I turned and yelped faintly when he tossed me something that looked a bit like a tube top. "It's a dress!"

"...how about no?" I returned the dress back to its spot. "Just...come find me when you're done picking out clothes. And I want nice, kid-friendly stuff, alright?" France pouted, but agreed after a while. "You have about an hour. And nothing stupidly expensive!"

An hour later, I found all my units weighed down by shopping bags. "Allie, sidekick!" America bounded over to me. He had changed his shirt from the plain black one he'd borrowed from Eric, to a blue shirt with the Captain America logo on the front. Apparently he had been too excited to wait until we got home.

"_Sorella!_" Italy hugged me tightly. "They have so many nice clothes here! _Ve~_" England returned with a shopping bag from _The Owl's Den_, and I wondered if he'd bought the book.Russia returned carrying less shopping bags.

The ride back home was loud and full of brags over how much everyone had bought, and how great their clothes were, occasionally punctuated by a perverted comment from France. Even though I hadn't done much, other than drive and walk around managing the BTT (actually, never mind), I was ready to collapse. And so I did, right on the couch.

Eric tore his eyes away from whatever he was watching and glanced down at me when I faceplanted on his lap. "There, there, little sister," he stroked my head. I rolled over enough to glare at him and bat at his face lethargically.

"We're twins you oaf," I replied. "Whatcha watching?" I glanced at the screen and blinked at the lightsaber-wielding Jedi slashed through some robots. "_Star Wars?_ Really?"

He frowned and flicked at my nose. "Hey, I don't complain when you watch anime, do I?"

"Actually, you do," I wrinkled up my nose and fixed him with a deadpan stare. "Loudly, and continuously. Ah," I groaned and closed my eyes. "I'm tired. But at least I got them clothes. Remind me to never take the BTT out shopping at the same time." Speaking of the BTT, I still had yet to find Spain a job. "Eric, pass me Spain's manual," I stared at the green manual on the coffee table in front of the couch.

He didn't even take his eyes off the screen. "You get it yourself."

I whined. "What is the point of having a twin if they don't do shit for you?"

"To tell you to get off your lazy ass and do the shit yourself." I pouted, but rolled over with a melodramatic groan to grab the booklet from the table. "There, now was that so hard?"

I kicked him and flipped open to the page that listed out possible jobs. _Band member, preschool teacher (like Feli), massage therapist, bouncer, ER surgeon (um, doesn't he need medical training for that?), dance instructor, and a football player._ My eyebrows rose and I smiled. _Talented. _I mentally rearranged the jobs into order of preference, and then selected my top three: preschool teacher, massage therapist and dance instructor.

_Well, I guess a dance instructor would be best,_ I nodded to myself. He would get plenty of exercise, and he liked people. I just hoped that his sexiness wouldn't attract any weirdoes. I didn't need to walk outside and see several Spanish-loving freaks on my front lawn.

I lay on the couch and watched the cartoon with Eric, nodding when the bad guys won, and whining when something sad happened, or when the bad guy won. After a few minutes, America came down and sat with us. Since I refused to sit up, I ended up with my legs on his lap and my head still on Eric's lap. After the Star Wars ended, _The Avengers _came on.

After about two hours of watching TV, with units coming in and out of the room, Eric glanced down at me. "Hey, what's for lunch anyway?"

I shrugged and thought for a moment. "I'm thinking enchiladas, to celebrate Spain's arrival." _Aw, I didn't cook anything French or Russian when those guys came._ I would have to remedy that. With a grunt, I tried to sit up, only to fail pathetically. "Damn, I'm stuck. Alfred, help me!"

"Sure thing, sidekick!" Arms came around me and lifted me into sitting position on his lap. "There we go, all safe!"

"My hero," I climbed off and made my way to the kitchen, bypassing Prussia and France. I wondered where Spain was, and decided that he was probably taking a siesta like Feli. A quick glance in the fridge to ensure that I had everything I needed, and I started on the dish.

"Hey, what are you cooking?" I jumped when someone leaned over my shoulder. _So most of those fanfics were right,_ I thought to myself. _Spain really does not fully comprehend personal space._ Neither did Feli, or France, so I decided to ignore it. "Enchiladas, _si?_"

"Mmhm," I dumped the chicken into the pan to cook. "Do you want to help me?" No matter how nice my food might have been, I was obviously no match for an actual Spanish cook.

His smile turned to a grin so wide and bright that I blinked a few times to clear the afterimages from my vision. "_Si, _I would love to!" _I need a LOVINO VARGAS unit,_ I stared up at Spain as he joined me. _Then I can slowly coerce them together and encourage spamano to occur! Speaking of OTPs, why am I not trying to encourage USUK?_

Ah well, I shoved the thought from my mind. This wasn't some story, this was real life, and I couldn't force two people (did they constitute as humans?) together to satisfy my fangirl-ish tendencies.

After we'd finished with the enchiladas, I turned off the stove and stretched upwards, feeling my back pop painfully. "Crap, ow," I groaned. What had I done to get my bones so stiff? Maybe lying on the couch for so long had been a bad idea. "Ow," I settled myself on the stool in the kitchen. "My _back_. Shit, _shit, _dammit.I feel like an old person."

"Aw, _pobre chica_," a large hand rubbed my back carefully. A second hand joined the first and the rubbing became firmer, fingers kneading into my back. _Holy shit. _"Is this better?"

_Magic fingers. This man has magic fingers._ "That feels amazing," I sagged, nearly crying with relief. "That is fantastic! Ah," I smiled and nearly melted into a puddle of relaxed goop on the kitchen table. "Don't stop~," I placed my face on the table, occasionally letting out groans of joy. "Hallelujah..."

Suddenly the door of the kitchen flew open and a wild Eric appeared, clutching my bat. "RELEASE MY SISTER YOU TOMATO-EATING PERVERT!" Behind him was America, and the rest of the BTT. France, for some reason, looked somewhat disappointed. "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"

"He was giving me a massage," I replied blankly. "What did you..._no._"

France shrugged and gave me a grin. "Well, you can't really blame us _Cherie,_" he replied. "All we could hear was _don't stop,_ and _that feels amazing_, and-!"

"ALRIGHT, YOU DON'T NEED TO SAY EVERYTHING!" I threw a plastic cup at him and happily watched it connect with his chest. He went down immediately. "Keep talking, and you won't get any of the food we made!"


	9. Canadian Pancakes

**I own absolutely nothing, just my imagination, Allie, and Eric. All translations come from Google Translate (and a few other websites I had to use when Translate fucked up really badly. Like I don't even know Italian, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't correct).**

**Enjoy!**

**Canadian Pancakes**

"Love?" I hummed non-committally in response. Wow calculus was a bitch. Fuck maths. Math is awful. Why do I have to do it? Why did I decide to torture myself this way? Honestly, I regret letting my father talk me into this. "It seems we're out of tea."

...great. Just _great._ "At least tell me we're not out of hot chocolate," I spun around in the chair to watch the blonde poke through the cupboard, and then shake his head. "Oh my god," I groaned, sagging visibly. It looked like I was going to have to go shopping. Again. Cooking for a bunch of units (why were they eating? Weren't they robots? Would they die if I didn't feed them?) was expensive. I was just glad they all had jobs.

The chair beside me shifted, and the Englishman dropped down beside me. "What are you working on?"

"Calculus," I replied from where my face was buried in my arms. "But I'm _stuck _and goddammit I hate this subject with my _life_."

Arthur hummed quietly from beside me, sounding equal parts amused and sympathetic. "Can't Eric help you?" I shook my head. Eric didn't mind math, but he wasn't incredibly good at it. He was average, that's what I'd say. "Then, why don't you call America?"

Wait, what? I sat up and blinked at England several times in confusion. _America?_ England wanted me to ask _America_ for _help_? "Believe it or not, the wanker is actually quite bright when it comes to these things," he grimaced, and then shrugged. "Your best bet would be Japan, but he's not here yet."

"I like how you said _yet_," I gathered my books. "Wanna go shopping with me after I'm done? We'll stock up on tea and stuff." Maybe I should re-check the fridge and see what we needed. I'd have to ask the other units too. Spain would definitely want me to stock up on tomatoes. Maybe I'd give him that empty patch of earth in the backyard for a tomato garden.

_And then when Romano appears, they can spend time together doing Spamano things..._

Right, Calculus, that's a thing. I stroked Italy's cheek as I passed by the couch. The little pasta-lover was taking a siesta. It seemed a bit early for that, but whatever. The BTT were somewhere doing...something, I wasn't about to ask. Russia was in his room. _I should go check on him, as soon as I find America and solve this ridiculous work._

"Eric, have you seen America?" I asked my potato of an older brother from where he was watching some historical documentary on tanks used in World War II and taking notes. He grunted, which I took to mean _no Allie, I haven't seen your self-appointed hero_. I sighed and kept looking. "Oi, Alfred! America! My hero!"

I paused in the dining room and frowned, and then yelped when arms came around and picked me up like I weighed nothing. "Oh my god, could you not?" I whined, glaring down at the person I'd been searching for. This was getting annoying. Was I really that light? I was short, yeah, but was I really so easy to manhandle or were America and Russia just strong?

"Sorry sidekick," he grinned. "I couldn't help it. You're so tiny dude!"

"DON'T CALL ME TINY!" He laughed more at my flailing, and I chose to pout at him. "Could you put me down? I wanted you to help me with my math work."

"Sure thing Allie," he lowered me to the ground, and held out a hand for my paper. "Lemme see here...ah!"

Okay, so it turned out that England hadn't been kidding. I suppose America being good at math was to be expected, considering our history of inventing shit. "Thank you!" I beamed. "By the way, I'm going grocery shopping with England, you want anything specific?"

"...can I have Marvel-themed cereal?"

"Yes."

"YOU'RE THE BEST!"

_Okay so marvel-themed cereal,_ I added it to the mental list in my head. No, wait, mental lists were bad. I quickly tore a page out of my notebook and scribbled it down. _Okay, now where are those troublemakers...?_ I turned a corner and nearly barrelled right into France. "_Je suis désolé ma chere,_" he apologised quickly.

"_C'est bon,_" I slipped into French unconsciously. What? You don't learn a language for 14 years and _not_ have it affect you in some way. "Where are Prussia and Spain?" I had expected them to be together.

The Frenchman sighed one of those particularly French sighs, the ones usually reserved for when someone does something really stupid. "It seems _mes amis_ challenged each other to a drinking game with _la bière de ton frère_."

I blinked several times. One, Eric was not going to be pleased. I quickly added _buy more beer_ to the list. Two, it was 2 in the afternoon, who decided to drink at this time? "And...they're not drunk?" I had to ask. What did alcohol even do to a unit's system? I would have to consult the manual.

Francis shrugged again and smiled. "Prussia is fine. At this point, he _is_ probably about 90% beer." I giggled at that, because it seemed incredibly plausible. "But enough about them, _mon chou_. You were looking for me, _non_?"

_Whipped cream, maple syrup, confectioner's sugar, tomatoes (for Spain) and more beer (for Prussia)._

Russia hadn't wanted anything, though he did ask be if he could walk me home from class tomorrow, seeing as he got off early for some reason. I told him yes, because yeah, why not?

Italy was just waking up when I returned downstairs. "Ve, _sorella_, _buon pomeriggio_," he said around a yawn. "_Dove stai andando?_" Something I'd discovered was that, immediately after waking up, Feli would lapse back into Italian. While I wasn't at all sure what he'd said, I took a wild guess anyway.

"England and I are going grocery shopping," I walked over to him and didn't blink when he wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. "You want anything?" I asked as I patted him on the back. "Pasta? Tomato sauce? Art supplies?"

"..._potremmo ottenere linguine?_"

_Linguine._ Linguini. He wanted pasta. "Okay. We should be back soon. Don't let Prussia in the kitchen unless Spain or France are with him. Actually no, not even then."

He yawned into my shirt and used me to stand up, still leaning on me. It was difficult to tell how awake he was, considering how his eyes were almost always shut, but he was still speaking Italian in that mumble-y voice, so he was probably still mildly out of it. "_Si,_" he said, and then he pecked me on the cheek and ambled away in the direction of the kitchen.

"England, are you ready?" I called out, and then I waited for the Englishman to appear. He was dressed in a classy, casual manner, as he usually dressed around the house: a casual black and white, ¾-length sleeved top, black slacks, and black shoes.

As I'd expected, he turned a few heads as we walked down the street. And even more when we got to the store. If there's one thing Americans love, it's a British accent. I don't know why, but it just does it for us.

"I'm surprised," he commented as we debated over tea brands and types. "There's quite a good selection here," his fingers closed around a box of Earl Grey, and then a box of English Breakfast. I threw in a box of Lady Grey for two reasons: one, it is freaking delicious. Two, I love the name. Can you imagine being a Victorian lady in your tea parlour sipping tea from a pretty teacup?

You know, sometimes I think I'd love to have lived in that century, but then I remember the racism, and sexism, and disease, and war, and pretty much how awful it was...and then I think _you know what? Never mind._

Still, history is incredibly fascinating to learn about. Every century and decade had really cool aesthetics. I was awaked from my thoughts when I noticed a group of girls had sidled closer to us, and were giggling amongst themselves. Alright, either these were fangirls who had spotted this England/Arthur Kirkland-lookalike and were internally freaking out, or just normal girls with normal social lives and sleep schedules that _weren't _fucked up, who'd just seen an attractive Brit and were freaking out over _that._

After some more giggling, one of them ejected herself from the group and made her way towards Arthur (who was still debating more tea choices). "Um, excuse me?" I hovered behind Arthur quietly. "But could my friends and I get a picture with you?"

...okay, so it turns out they were just normal girls. Too bad, or good. The last thing I needed was a bunch of crazy fangirls discovering I had the entire Hetalia cast living in my house. That would be bad. "Americans can rather presumptuous," he commented as we paid for our stuff at one of the self-checkout counters.

"It's a country trait," I shrugged. "Besides it...oh fuck."

"What?" But I wasn't looking at the Englishman, I was staring at the truck in front of the house. "Is that...?"

I was torn between being excited, and being mildly exasperated. How many was I going to get? How were these units manufactured? How expensive was it to manufacture them? WAS I GOING TO HAVE TO PAY FOR THIS AT SOME POINT?! "Oh, hi Alexandra!" Shawn waved at me from where he was unloading a crate, though I really wasn't looking at him much.

England on the other hand, wasn't focused on that. "Is that...a Flying Mint Bunny hat?" He was staring at the hat on top of Shawn's head, which I'd never noticed before, and which was really quite cute now that I thought about it.

"Huh?" Shawn handed me the signing-pad, which I signed rather aggressively, and then he handed me the standard manila envelope. "Oh, yeah. All the delivery people get a bunch in case something happens."

Arthur was still staring at the hat with an expression that looked disturbingly like awed adoration. "Can I...?"

I blinked and looked from Arthur, to Shawn, the hat, to Arthur, and then Shawn again, and then I sighed. "Alright, give him the hat."

"What?"

"GIVE HIM THE HAT!" Shawn squeaked and handed over the mint-green, bunny hat, and then drove away in his truck, while Arthur grinned like a child with a new toy, which was also pretty cute. "Well, now that that's done, can we get this into the house?"

America and Russia got into an argument while competing over who was stronger than the other while carrying the crate, but I tuned them out. "_Ve~_?" Feli appeared behind me, and draped his arms around my neck. "Who is that?"

"I have no idea, give me a moment," I flipped open the envelope to reveal a red and white manual.

_Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of a MATTHEW WILLIAMS Hetalia Unit!_

_YES, WE GOT MY BABY CANADIAN!_ I resisted the urge to whoop in joy, but I did squeal very quietly so that I sounded like a very excited kitten. "We got Canada!"

"Who?" _Figures,_ I rolled my eyes and flipped open the manual._ Alright, methods of opening. Let's see...Canadian anthem, speak French, cook French and/or Canadian food...I'm not playing Justin Bieber. I can't do that to myself, plus Eric would kill me...what does Lady Gaga have to do with anything? Ice hockey? And Kuma-whatnot unit._

_Alright, I think I got this._ I snapped the manual shut and sidled over to the crate. "Um, _bonjour Matthew!_" I spoke loudly. France perked up, as he always did whenever I spoke French. However, I think this time he was more interested in the mentioned unit. "_Ca va?_"

I had to listen really carefully before I heard a response. "_Bonjour,_" a quiet voice came from the box. "_Pourriez-vous m'aider, veuillez?_" I grabbed the hammer, and then gave myself a quick pep-talk as I unhooked the nails. _Okay Allie, pay attention. This is Canada. Yes he is adorable and sweet and so ignored, but remember to be calm. Do not squeal, tackle, or attempt to-! _"Ah," an adorable face with sweet lilac eyes and a small smile came into view. "_Merci._"

"CANADA!" I tackle-glomped him, sending both of us to the ground. "OH MY FLIPPING ICE CREAM YOU'RE SO _CUTE!_" _Well, there goes my inner pep-talk._ I whined when a hand grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me away. "Eric, no! I'm not done cuddling him, dammit!"

He sighed and addressed Canada. "Hello, you look sufficiently non-threatening. I am Eric Clare, and the woman who was hugging you is my twin sister, Alexandra. Don't mind her, she does that to everything she considers cute."

America pouted. "Hey, you didn't hug me!" He whined. "Does that mean I'm not cute?"

I stared at him blankly. "You guys are cute in a different way." Eric rolled his eyes and released me, and I promptly went back to hugging Canada. "Please just let me do this. I'm normally really calm," I snuggled into his hair. He smelled like maple syrup. "I'm Alexandra Clare, but you can call me anything non-insulting!"

"I-I'm Canada," he stuttered, and I couldn't help smiling. He really wasn't used to receiving so much attention. I leaned up and kissed the side of his head – and this was probably a result of how excited I was and the number of endorphins flooding my system – and grinned when he blushed. "T-thank you..."

"_Okay,_" Eric grabbed me and yanked me away for the second time. "I think that's enough unit-bonding time! Antonio, watch my sister!" I pouted but walked over to sit beside the Spaniard on the couch. "Alright, Matthew, since Allie and I really can't be expected to provide for all you units, you guys need to get jobs. It says here you can be a," he glanced down at the manual. "Secret agent?"

Alfred jumped in before anyone could say anything. "Hell yeah, that would be so cool dude! You could get, like, cool spy stuff and gadgets, and-!"

"We're not handing him over to the CIA, Alfred," I cut him off. "Besides, spies don't always do fun stuff like you see in movies. Most of the time they just do paperwork. Next."

"Always gotta be so realistic," Eric rolled his eyes. "He can also be a blackmaile-! _France, how did you get here?_" The Frenchman had somehow managed to appear in front of us, and was cuddling Canada while cooing in French about how adorable his little _Matthieu_ was.

Because France was sort of like Matthew's father-figure, and because the Canadian didn't look particularly annoyed and/or terrified by the incessant hugging, I decided not to intervene. Ah well, we'd figure this out later.

* * *

**Translations**

**Je suis désolé ma chere_: _**(French) I am sorry my dear

**La bière de ton frère:**__(French) Your brother's beer

**Sorella, ****buon pomeriggio: **(Italian) Sister, good afternoon

**Dove stai andando?: **(Italian) Where are you going?

**Potremmo ottenere linguine?:** (Italian) Can we get linguini?

**Pourriez-vous m'aider, veuillez?:** (French) Could you help me out, please?


	10. Beach Plans Plus New Additions

**Chemical Defect (guest): Thank you for the correction! As you can see, that's what I get for trusting Google Translate! Don't do it kids!**

**ArmCannos34: Alexandra is 5'5 ft, with dark African-American skin, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair with natural gold/copper strands. Her hair is this huge mass of curls. Eric is 6 ft with short black-brown hair and eyes.**

**I own nothing whatsoever**

**Beach Plans Plus New Additions**

Saturdays were my good days. Saturdays meant no school, and very few responsibilities. I could sleep until 12 p.m. if I wanted. I could stay in my room all day doing what I wanted. And what I wanted to do that Saturday morning, was sleep.

Which, apparently, was not something I'd be able to do as I was jostled from my slumber by a weight landing on top of me. "Dude, dude wake up!" An obnoxiously loud voice yelled rather close to my ear. "You can't sleep the whole day! Come on, wake up! Let's do something!"

"_Nooooo..._" I whined, slipping further under the covers and curling up tighter. "Let me sleep..."

"But _sidekick~_" he whined. "Don't make me use the secret weapon on you! Remember, I know your ultimate weakness!" I frowned but didn't budge, and then I tensed when I felt him lean closer. "Well, I tried!" _What the-?_ Fingers suddenly wriggled under the covers and dug into my sides. My very _sensitive_ sides. Who the fuck told him I was ticklish? Was it Eric? It wasprobably Eric.

I screeched loudly, and began to squirm and flail, but he already had a good hold on me so all I could do was thrash around while screaming and laughing. "STOP, OHMYGOD STOP I'M GONNA FALL OFF THE BED!"

"Are you gonna get up?" He snickered, and I nodded quickly, too out of breath to do anything but make incoherent noises. "Are you gonna make burgers for breakfast?" _What, no!_ I shook my head and yelped when he redoubled his efforts. "What's that Allie? You _don't _want me to stop tickling you? Well, if you insist-!"

"No, I'm sorry!" I laughed, rolling around and very nearly toppling right off the bed. "I'll make burgers! I'll make burgers, just please-!"

"Knew you'd see my end of the deal," he chuckled and pulled away, and I promptly collapsed back down, breathing heavily and twitching. "Ha, I knew I'd get you to wake up eventually!"

I groaned and rolled onto my side, and then I flipped back and held out my arms. "You're carrying me downstairs for that," I mock scowled, and made grabby motions with my hands. "I refuse to walk now."

"You got it!" He picked me up easily and bounded to the kitchen with me. "Mattie, bro, I convinced her to make burgers to go with the pancakes!"

Matthew and Arthur turned to stare at us, and then at me. "He tickled me," I said by way of explanation. "Apparently _someone_," I shot a pointed glare in Eric's direction._ "_Told him about that. So now I gotta make burgers for breakfast, even though that is not at all healthy." My twin lifted his coffee mug in an unrepentant salute.

"_So now I have to_," England corrected automatically. "Bloody hell America, don't drag Alexandra into this. Can't you do without burgers for the day?"

Alfred cackled gleefully and let me down. "It's too late! She already promised the hero, and sidekicks don't break promises to their heroes!" I rolled my eyes and walked over to grab the burger patties from the fridge. On my way, I dropped a kiss on Feli's cheek, which he replied to with a sleepy smile, a yawn, and a mumbled _buongiorno sorella._

I wandered past the radio and flipped it on. _Moves Like Jagger _immediately began to play, and I couldn't help dancing along and humming as I sidled over to where Matthew was flipping a perfectly made golden brown pancake onto a stack of equally wonderful-looking pancakes. There was a bottle of golden maple syrup beside the plate, and some butter. I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind and pressed my face into his back. "That looks good," I mumbled, peering under his arm at the batter.

He glanced at me, smiling slightly. "Thank you, eh..."

I nodded, and danced away when the chorus came on. Twenty minutes later, America was assembling a burger with an assortment of odd condiments while Arthur looked on in disgust over the rim of his teacup.

_Worth It _by Fifth Harmony was playing in the background, which was making me feel like dancing again. Suddenly, Spain grabbed my one of my hands and yanked me into a spin. When had he appeared? Either way, he was grinning widely. "_Baila conmigo, cereza!_" Well, I could guess what he'd said. I laughed and shifted to avoid the table, moving with the beat of the music and throwing my hands up to bring them down again.

Spain was a really good dancer, catching one of my hands and pulling me closer, twisting me again, encouraging me to move my hips in time with the music. I could hear the other countries calling out encouragement and cheering in the background. At some point, while I was spinning, I caught sight of Prussia and France, but then they were gone again, and then Spain was pulling me in again. By the end of the song, I was laughing so hard, and so winded that I could barely stand.

"Ha, well done _cereza_!" Spain beamed down at me where I was sitting on the ground and gasping for air. The other countries expressed similar sentiments, even England.

He sighed but smiled over his teacup. "I suppose so. Where did you even learn to dance like that, poppet?"

Eric smirked and went to pick me up. Normally I had more stamina than that, but the laughing had really taken a lot out of me. "She watches a lot of music videos on TV, and researches choreography routines online," he explained on my behalf as he set me on one of the chairs. "Honestly, you are so out of shape," he told me.

"Am...not!" I gasped. "I'm...just happy...and I laughed too hard," I pinched his cheek and grinned widely, before my stomach chose to rumble loudly. "...also, I'm hungry."

"Here," a forkful of delicious pancake appeared right in front of my face, held by Matthew. I opened my mouth immediately, and ate it. "How is it, eh?"

"This is the best pancake ive ever eaten in my whole life," I declared while chewing, and then I opened my mouth again when I'd swallowed. "I'm gonna need more of that, thanks."

As Canada was lifting another bite to my lips, another face appeared and stole it. "Kesesesesese!" Gilbert laughed. "She wasn't kidding, Birdie!" He chewed loudly. "These really are awesome! Almost as awesome as me!"

"Hey!" I yelled, latching on to Matthew. "Those were mine! Go get your own cute, pancake-making Canadian!"

He stuck his tongue out with a smirk. "I already have one, so let go of him!"

_...wait, is this...PruCan? ...IDK how to feel. _On one hand, I loved PruCan because eyyy, cute ship! On the other hand, I also loved PruAus, because I am all for the _opposites attract _tropeand Prussia is this brash character, and Austria is so refined... so yeah, _what do, what do I fucking do? _"Oh yeah," it suddenly occurred to me, on a totally different, and completely random tangent. "Where's Russia? Has he had breakfast yet?"

"I think he's outside," Eric replied. I nodded and – after yelling instructions to them to not let America near the grill to make more burgers, and to make sure that Prussia didn't steal all the pancakes (or the pancake-maker) – I grabbed a plate and drizzled a few of the pancakes with maple syrup and skipped outside.

It was sunny today, not a cloud in the sky, and I raised a hand to shade my eyes. Like Eric has said, Russia was in the garden leaning over one of the plants in his self-claimed patch of land. "Ah, доброе утро..."

"Good morning Ivan," I walked over. "Have you eaten? I brought freshly made Canadian pancakes!" His eyes widened slightly, and he accepted the plate and began to eat. "It's a nice day, isn't it?" I said conversationally. "Really sunny and all. You can tell it's actually summer now."

He hummed in agreement, the corners of his mouth stained with sugar and maple syrup. "да, it would be a pity to waste such a good day. We do not get very many warm days in my country..."

I hummed and nodded. "I guess. We should do something today then," I decided. "Like...go to the beach!"

Now that the idea had occurred to me, it suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. The beach wasn't so far away, maybe an hour-long drive if there wasn't any traffic. Ivan blinked down at me in surprise, and I reached up to wipe away the syrup like I would a child. He tilted his head to the side, and raised his clean hand to pat my hair.

"да, I would like that," Ivan smiled, and I grinned back. At that moment, I heard the sound of a van pulling up to the house. _I swear, if that's who I think it is..._

It was. "Shawn, you have the worst timing," I glared at the man while Eric signed for the units, because there were two crates parked inside the house. One, oddly enough, was made of metal. "Who did we get?" I peered over his shoulder when he opened one of the manuals.

"Look, I don't know these people," he shrugged and handed them to me. "You tell me."

I stared at the page, and then grinned. "WE GOT GERMANY, PEOPLE!" And then I opened the other one. "AND WE GOT ROMANO TOO!" Of all the two countries to come as a pair, it had to be these two.

There was a crash, and a high pitched "_ve~!_" from somewhere in the house, and then Prussia, Spain and Feli came sprinting into the room, nearly falling over each other in their haste. Eric only just narrowly avoided being trampled by them. "WEST! WEST IS HERE?" Prussia ran over to the metal crate. "West, West come out! It's your awesome big brother! They have beer here!"

"Hey, my beer is not a free commodity!" Eric yelled. Prussia ignored him and poured some beer over the metal crate, cackling happily. I giggled, until I looked down at the manual and read that I wasn't supposed to let Gilbert do that. _...well it's too late for that now._

A second later, there was a low grating sound, and the lid of the crate broke open. Matthew and Feli screamed, and Feli dived behind me, as Germany roared. "_Gilbert!_" The lid bent more, and a tall, incredibly muscled man climbed out. And when I say muscled, I mean _damn son, you how long do you work out?_ He had slicked back blonde hair, and steel-blue eyes, and he was _big_. "What have I told you about wasting perfectly good beer?"

While he chewed out his brother, and Prussia laughed and patted him on the shoulder, I turned to Lovino's crate. "Okay...Feli!" I turned to the Italian, and found him clinging to Germany's shoulder and cooing about how much he had missed him, and how much he'd like it here. The taller blonde was blushing slightly, and looked a tiny bit uncomfortable with Italy's affection.

_Aw...height differences! I knew there was a reason I shipped this! You know, apart from the affection and closeness, and the chance that it's probably canon that Germany is the grown up Holy Rome SO WHOO, REUNITED LOVERS!_

I came out of my thoughts when Feli hopped off Germany to drag me over. "Ve~, Germany, this is my new sorella!" He beamed, his hands on my shoulders. Germany turned to me, and his blush receded a bit.

"Ah, hello," he held out his hand a bit stiffly, and I smiled and shook it. "I am Ludwig Beilschmidt. Thank you for taking care of Feliciano."

"Alexandra Clare," I nodded. "And no worries. We had fun!" Feli nodded and glomped me, rubbing his cheek against mine and talking in loud, rapid Italian. _Oh, I was about to ask you to do that but okay!_

In response, a voice came from the other crate, low and muffled. "Feli? Feli is that you? Get me out of this fucking crate! It's fucking dark in here!"

I ran into the kitchen to grab a screwdriver, but when I returned, Spain was cooing at the box in Spanish and there was a lot of muffled cursing coming from within. I waved him away, and pried out the nails. The lid lifted up to reveal someone who looked very similar to Feli, but his hair and skin were darker. His eyes were a colour I couldn't place – hazel, or green, or gold, I couldn't be sure.

His lips were pulled into a snarl, and his cheeks were flushed red as he continued to yell. "And another fucking thing-!" Then his eyes met mine and he froze and just stared, and then he suddenly blushed even more. "Ah, _scusami_ _bella,_" he apologised, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding my eyes.

_Aw... _"No worries," I smiled, feeling the urge to poke his cheeks. Spain, unfortunately did not share my reservations, as the second Lovino climbed out of the crate, the taller male promptly tackled him in a hug.

"Ah, Lovi~, you're here!" He cuddled the screaming Italian, ignoring the insults being thrown at him. _Spamano. It's happening. IT'S FUCKING HAPPENING SOMEONE HOLD ME!_ I screamed internally, but kept my composure because if there's one thing I'm good at, it's maintaining an excellent poker face. "I've missed you~!"

Lovino squirmed in his arms, screaming loudly. "Shut up, you stupid tomato bastard! Let go of me!" Eric and I stared at them silently, and then he glanced down at me.

"Is...is thing going to be a thing now?"

"Probably."

* * *

**Translation**

__Buongiorno sorella -__ (Italian) Good morning sister

_Baila__ conmigo, cereza_ – (Spanish) Dance with me, cherry!

доброе утро - (Russian) Good morning

**All translations come from Google Translate, so please feel free to point out if something is wrong! Thank you!**


	11. Sunshine and Beaches

**Yo, so this chapter took a while to come out. I don't know, I just couldn't write it. But now I have, plus I have planned for some other fun stuff for Allie and the countries to do later on! I own nothing, other than Allie and her bro (who barely shows up because he is lazy af).**

**Sunshine and Beaches**

_Well they came as a surprise, _I thought to myself as I stared at the units thoughtfully._ Does this mean I should put off the trip?_ I'd also need to rearrange the rooming schedules. Clearly they would all have to start sharing, starting with Italy and Germany. Although it would sadden me to let go of my cuddly Italian bedmate, that sadness would be combated by the fact that he was happy, and that Gerita was taking place under my roof. I could live with that.

_I'd do the same for them too,_ I turned to where Antonio was pinching Lovino's cheeks and the smaller nation was ranting at him in a mix of Italian and English. _But I don't think Lovino would like that._

I tapped my bottom lip with a finger as I debated internally. Canada sidled over to me, and I automatically wrapped an arm around his waist while I thought about what to do now. Eric was being no help, and was talking to Russia about something. Maybe it had to do with communism. Eric and I had a longstanding, friendly (usually) argument about the pros and cons of communism.

He believed it could be a good idea if implemented properly, while I maintained that it was one of those things that sounded fantastic on paper but wouldn't work out too well in real life.

_Whatever, I'll have to figure it out later I guess. _I shoved the thoughts away and pitched the beach idea to the other countries and my brother, and they were all on board, as I thought they'd be. Who says no to going to the beach? I mean, yeah there's the problem with sunburn and getting sand everywhere...oh my god, we're going to get sand everywhere.

Too late now!

Packing took a little longer, what with making sure everyone had swim trunks, and sunscreen, sunhats and sunglasses etc., as well as having to find clothes to fit Romano and Germany because I couldn't let them both go out in what looked like military wear.

Romano was able to wear Italy's clothes, seeing as he was just a bit shorter than his younger brother (something that I found beyond adorable), but Germany only just managed to fit into one of Prussia's shirts and a pair of pants, since he was actually more muscular than his brother. The fabric strained slightly against his torso in a way that would be considered attractive by anyone with a pair of working eyes. _Ha, this is going to be fun._

When I _finally _deemed that we were all done - because apparently I am the unofficial mother of the group - and no one had forgotten anything important, I crammed them all in the jeep (it was squashed as fuck let me tell you) and tossed Eric the keys. "Drive."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," he rolled his eyes and twisted the keys.

As I'd said, the whole trip _would _have taken an hour minus traffic, but there was traffic because the world is a horrible place and nothing is ever easy. Also, the BTT and Alfred wouldn't stop trying to catch the attention of people in other cars by whistling and lifting up their shirts, leaving England, Lovino and I to try to yank them back inside while screaming at them that _we could get arrested would you sit the fuck dOWN FRANCE, FRANCE I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL TIE YOU UP I'M NOT KIDDING, PRUSSIA THAT MEANS YOU TOO! _

Finally, _finally,_ we arrived at the beach after managing to _not_ get arrested for public indecency or something like that. Thank the deities. "Alright, get out, all of you!" Eric snapped, and we poured out. My exasperation was forgotten as I got a good look at the ocean glimmering blue in the distance, and the miles of golden sand. People were lying on colourful towels, and strolling about. There were little kids running up and down, and a game of beach volleyball happening. Someone was playing music somewhere, a song I didn't recognise, but one with a really catchy beat.

_I haven't been here in ages!_ I smiled, and then yelped in surprise when arms came around me. "ALRIGHT, LET'S GO FIND A GOOD SPOT!" Alfred picked me up and ran off, whooping excitedly while I screamed.

"YOU GIT, YOU FORGOT YOUR BAG!" I could hear England yelling behind us. I'm sure we all made quite a sight. Several people stopped to stare at us, after all there were a lot of us, and we were a pretty random and multicultural group.

A random and multicultural group of cute/hot/really eye-catching men plus one girl. Hella.

Alfred stopped in front of a large, empty spot, and I nodded sagely. "This looks like an excellent spot. We will make camp here."

And we did, with a shitload of towels and two umbrellas, and several bags full of sunscreen and other essentials. I had packed a lot of sunblock because there were a lot of them, and they needed it. Light skin burned much easily than dark skin, and I was not about to transport a bunch of sunburned, groaning, sand-covered units back home in that cramped car.

So while Eric dumped his stuff in a haphazard heap, and ran off to join a football (or soccer, whatever you wanna call it) game, I stayed and made sure that they all applied liberal amounts of sunscreen (could units get sunburn? You know what, fuck it), starting with Italy because he was the first to sit when I told them to, before sprinting off towards the water with Germany on his trail yelling at him to slow down before he hurt himself.

"Would you sit still?" I said when Prussia squirmed for the fifth time. I was kneeling behind him and trying to apply the sunscreen to his back, because he was the palest one present, and I really didn't want anything bad to happen to him. "You need way more than everyone else you know," I squeezed out more cream and rubbed it into his shoulders and down his back. "Francis, you're next! Then I'll do Ivan." He'd refused to take off his scarf even with his swimsuit, and I wasn't about to fight him on it. "Arthur, can you make sure Alfred uses some?"

"Alright poppet," he sighed and went to corral the overexcited American, while Francis waggled his eyebrows at me.

I stared at him from behind my sunglasses. "Don't look at me like that. I'm only doing your back."

"_C'est la vie,_" he chuckled and took his place in front of me when I was done with Gilbert. "Be gentle with me~?" He batted his lashes at me over his shoulder, and I rolled my eyes and pinched his side. He yelped and pouted. "That wasn't very nice."

"I'm not nice," I replied blankly. "Now turn, I don't want any of you getting sunburned. You need some on your face too..."

Lovino scoffed and moved to sit as far away from France as possible. "Ugh, I don't know how you're not throwing up from having to touch that wine bastard," he wrinkled his nose.

"Aw, be nice Lovi-no," I quickly said his full name, and he shot me a suspicious look. I grinned back innocently, and he looked away with a huff and a blush. _Aw, look at this flustered tomato-child!_ "Here, I know I can trust you to apply your own sunscreen," I tossed a bottle to him. He caught it with the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

Francis cooed. "Ah, isn't that cute _chere_?" He winked at me. "Lovino likes you!"

"Shut the fuck up wine bastard!"

_Ah, aren't we one big, happy family? _Canada went last, not because I'd forgotten him, but because the others seemed to have, with the exception of Lovino. Because of that, I let him do my back for me. "Thank you," he said quietly. I hummed and sat there in my black-and-gold tankini (which I defined as a bikini for shy people) while he rubbed the cream onto my back and sides. I yelped when he dug his fingers in, and squealed. "Ticklish, eh?"

"Extremely-DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!" I screamed and curled into myself when he pressed his fingers with more purpose. "I SWEAR TO GOD MATTHEW! LOVINO, HELP ME!"

The Italian blinked at me, and then pretended to think deeply. "I don't know, _bella_. I still need to apply all this sunscreen..."

"I HATE YOU BOTH!"

Matthew finally let up after I threatened to not buy any more maple syrup ever. I watched Italy splash in the waves while Germany watched him and yelled that he shouldn't go too far while he finished up.

Just as he was finishing, England returned looking slightly redder and out of breath. "Bloody American," he grumbled, dropping down to sit beside me. I hummed and rubbed the last of the cream on his cheeks, just in case. Arthur hummed quietly, and pulled a book out from his bag – _Sense and Sensibility_ – and leaned back to read.

"This isn't proper beach activity," I commented. "Also, is that mine?"

He had the grace to look abashed. "I found it on the kitchen table yesterday," he admitted. "I haven't read Jane Austen's works in a while."

I shrugged and adjusted my sunglasses. "It's okay! You've seen my library, right? You can borrow books from there as long as you let me know."

He smiled and agreed, and went back to reading about the lives and loves of the Dashwood sisters. To be honest, I think I fit more as a _sense _persona rather than someone more ruled mainly by emotions. I stretched upwards and got to my feet. "I'm gonna take a walk. Maybe get some ice cream. Any requests?"

England declined any, rapidly becoming engrossed in the book, and Canada said he'd take anything. Lovino decided to walk with me to the vendor so he could see the options. "Just in case you come back with something stupid," he muttered. I gasped and pretended to be shocked that he had _so little _faith in my ability to choose good ice cream flavours. "Yeah, yeah," he snorted, but I saw the way he tried to bite back an amused smirk.

We passed by Spain and France burying Prussia in the sand. They were sculpting a mermaid tail from his waist, and trying to get the Prussian to stay still before he ruined it. I made a mental note to take a picture when we'd gotten the ice cream. "You think he'll get hit by someone?" I jerked my head at the very energetic volleyball game happening a few feet away.

"If only," Lovino replied. We made our way to the vendor where I purchased a cookies 'n' cream for myself, what looked like a mass of vanilla, chocolate sprinkles and nuts for Lovino, and – get this – maple syrup ice cream!

"Matthew is going to _flip _when he gets this!" I grinned widely as we made our way back. I took a huge lick of my ice cream and hummed happily. "This is my favourite. What's in yours anyway? Is it good?"

Romano looked down at his cone and licked it. "Pistachios," he replied shortly. "It's...not bad..."

That was probably meant it was good. I took another lick of my ice cream. "You know what we should do?" I said thooughtfully. "We should get some tomato flavoured ice cream."

His eyes widened, even as he pursed his lips in suspicion. "Is that even real?"

"I don't know, I saw it online. I'm pretty sure it exists. Besides, there's a lot of weird shit in this world," we passed by Russia and America attacking each other with seaweed and bits of flotsam and jetsam while a crowd watched and occasionally cheered on one of them. "Exhibit A." _They are going to get arrested._

Before we could take another step, something slammed into the side of my head, knocking me to the ground. For a moment, all I could see was blackness, and I wondered if I was unconscious. I had never been unconscious before, unless sleep counted. I don't think sleep counted.

I could hear Lovino cursing in what sounded like very violent Italian, and felt someone moving my shoulders gently. "Oh my god, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I didn't see you!"

_What? Yeah, of course I am. I just got hit in the face by something, no biggie. _The blackness began to dissolve into spots, and I groaned. "Ow..." I opened my eyes just enough to allow a sliver of light in. "What the absolute fuck?"

There was a guy above me, which was already weird. I mean, not counting the units, I had never had a dude hovering over me ever. Wow, new experiences right here. He was cute, I guess. Tanned, blue-eyed, black-haired...he was aesthetically pleasing to look at, was what I decided in the ten seconds I got to squint up at him while trying to get my eyes to adjust, before he was carelessly shoved out of the way by Alfred and Ivan. "SIDEKICK, ARE YOU OKAY?"

I winced at his loud voice. "Shhhhh," I whispered. "My head hurts. And I dropped my ice cream." For some reason, that hurt more than the actual physical pain I was in. "My ice cream..."

"You shouldn't move her," the guy said, but I was already sitting up anyway because I was totally fine and what is weakness? The guy held out his hand to me. "Are you alright?"

Before I could answer, Alfred had picked me up and he and Ivan were glaring at the boy like a pair of angry guard dogs. "You hit her, Да?" Ivan asked in that scarily calm way he has. "подсолнечник shall I so the same?"

"Let's not do that," I replied quickly when the boy backed up, his eyes wide. Even the crowd looked a bit nervous. Ivan is 6 ft something worth of somewhat unhinged, dense muscle I mean, I wouldn't recommend going up against him. Imagine a team of him, Alfred and Germany. Maybe with Denmark and Sweden...that would be dangerous. "He apologized, and I'm fine. I'm _fine_," I stressed the word when he stared at me dubiously. "No bruises, just mild concussion."

"Concussion isn't mild," Lovino muttered, and I puffed out my cheeks in exasperation.

"Can we just go get some more ice cream?" I rolled my eyes, which gave me a headache. "You can carry me if it makes you feel better."

"ALRIGHT!" Alfred whooped loudly and walked off with me, with Ivan and Lovino in tow.

* * *

**Translate**

**C'est la vie - **(French) That's life

**подсолнечник -** (Russian) Sunflower

* * *

**I feel like this could have been better, but I plan to make the next chapter better. Plus, I wanna do a club/karaoke chapter. Because what else bonds friends like singing and dancing in front of each other?**


	12. That One Time the Units Got Me a Date

**So this should have come out last week, but school has been eating me alive. Besides, this is my fun story. My relaxation story, that I go to when I'm suffering from a lack of motivation to write my other stories.**

**I do not own the Hetalia characters, or any manuals seen here.**

**That One Time the Units Got Me a Date**

Riding on Alfred's back was more fun than I thought it would be, especially since he was taller than me. I'm pretty sure riding on Russia's back would have been cool too, maybe on his shoulders? I don't know, I've never ridden on someone's shoulders before. I hadn't actually had someone give me a piggy-back ride in...months? Eric randomly grabbing me and throwing me on his shoulder to display his macho strength did not count, because that was just painful and made me feel like a ragdoll up until I pinched him in the side and he released me. That was just unfair, it's not my fault that I'm short and light!

As we walked, we passed by the BTT, who were still very much involved with their Prussian mermaid tail (it now had a pattern of super intricate designs and shells), and had even drawn a bunch of admirers who seemed more interested in the very shirtless artists rather than the actual art itself.

They looked up when they noticed me on America's back. "_Cherie,_ what are you doing?"

"I got hit in the head by a ball, so Alfred won't let me walk," I replied, resting my chin on the top of said hero's head. His curl tickled my cheek. "Even though I'm perfectly fine and not suffering any problems at all."

"But sidekick, you could have concussion!"

"But I don't!" I whined, puffing my cheeks and pouting. "It was just a boop to the nose anyway."

Romano stared at me with wide eyes. "You got hit in the face. By a volleyball," he said slowly, like he was worried the impact might have damaged my brain.

I shrugged and wriggled to be put down, which I was. "Psh, this isn't the first time I've been hit in the face by something. Don't worry about me, but if it helps, I'll so sit down somewhere and rest for a while?"

Which was how I found myself sitting underneath my umbrella, alternating between people-watching and daydreaming, until a shadow fell over me. I opened my eyes and blinked at Francis. "You look comfy," he grinned. His hair was wet, but it still managed to be shiny and perfect. Drops of water gleamed on those golden locks, and on his skin. His teeth were white, and perfect, and it was getting ridiculous how pretty all these units were I swear.

_I ordered beautiful male models. Great. _"I am," I cocked my head to the side, and let my eyes follow him as he walked behind me to rummage through one of our bags. He pulled out the bottle of sunscreen with a triumphant sound. "Do you need me to put more?"

"_Non,_" he dropped down behind me, pulling me to sit in the V of his legs. "Dark skinned or not, _ma chere_, so much sunlight cannot be good for your skin," he waved the bottle in front of my face, and I made a hissing noise of horror. "You will get sunburned, _lapin_!" He chuckled as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to prevent me from running.

I didn't like using sunscreen. Cream, sure, but this version just felt weird. "It's all thick, and sticky!" I whined, squirming when he held me tighter and flipped the top open. "I will not get sunburned! I'm black!"

"_Thick and sticky_," he repeated, amusement laced in his tone. I blinked at him for about two seconds, wondering why that was so funny to him. And then I understood.

"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE DISGUSTING!" I tried to sound appalled, but I was laughing too hard. "EW, FRANCIS WHY?" I covered my face and groaned. "Oh god, why? No, my innocence..."

Francis snickered behind me, and squeezed the cold lotion directly onto my shoulders. "_Techniquement, vous faites les coups de soleil._ Maybe not immediately, but you will eventually," he rubbed the lotion into my skin with long, dexterous fingers. "Your brother would kill me if I let that happen."

"Eric would kill you for touching me anyway," I giggled. He laughed and rested his chin on my shoulder.

"What _ton frère _does not know, will not hurt him, _oui_?"

We were snickering to ourselves, and so neither of us noticed another shadow until someone cleared their throat to get our attention.

It was the guy who had (accidentally) hit the ball into my face earlier. At least, I think it was? I suck at remembering faces, and I did only get to look at him properly for like five seconds. He was glancing between me and Francis nervously, before focusing on me. "Um, hi..."

I nodded at him. "Hey. You're the guy from before, right?" Because it never hurts to ask.

"Yeah, I just came to apologise again," he ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Francis again. I couldn't see the look on the blond's face, but he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my hair. "I'm James by the way. I really didn't mean to hit you."

"It's fine," I shrugged. "I won't even bruise. I think it just looked worse than it actually was," I paused for a second. Oh right, I hadn't told him my name. "I'm Alex."

He repeated my name with a smile, and I smiled back at him even though I was beginning to feel mildly awkward. Francis laughed quietly into my hair. "_Il vous aime,_" he whispered quietly in French.

"_Quoi? Non,_" I rolled my eyes, twisting around slightly to catch his eye. "_Il vient par présenter des excuses comme une bonne personne._"

He snorted a particularly French snort, the kind that were maybe reserved for incredibly sarcastic retorts. "_Une bonne personne? Bien sûr. Je sais attraction quand je la vois, ma chérie, et je vois ici._"

"Uh..." Oh yeah, he was still here, and he probably had no idea what we were saying. "Is he your boyfriend?" He stared at Francis.

I blinked up at him, and then twisted to stare at Francis. We blinked at each other, and then stared back at him. "No, what gave you that idea?"

He fumbled for a moment at that response, and then he coughed and ran a hand through his hair again. "Well, I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink with me."

Oh. _Oh._ So Francis had been right. I should know better than to doubt the personification of the country of love. He was going to be insufferable now, I could almost see the smirk he was hiding in my hair. "Um, you mean now?" I asked.

"If you're not busy," he replied. "Or sometime this week, if you're not busy or anything." I couldn't tell if it was the sun or not, but he might have been blushing.

Uh...so...I don't know if I've mentioned this at any point in time, but I have never been on a date. I have never even kissed a guy before. The last guy I liked was when I was twelve, and it ended horribly (plus I think it was just a pity crush, in that he pitied me, so I had a crush on him because I had shitty self-esteem back then).

So I wasn't quite sure what to tell this guy. Yes? No? Maybe(-but-I-really-mean-no)?

Luckily I was saved from the oncoming awkwardness when Italy barrelled into me at high speed, knocking me off France's lap. "_Sorella_!" He cheered, clinging to me like a limpet to some rocks and smearing me with seawater and sand. "_Sorella,_ you have to come see this!" He yanked me off the ground, ignoring everyone present, and pulled me away.

"Feli, what is it? What is going-holy shit," I stared at the giant, sand-carved sculpture of a plate of spaghetti, complete with tomato sauce plus actual tomatoes. _Is this even physically possible?_ I blinked at the sculpture, and then glanced at Feli. "You made this?"

He nodded excitedly. "Big brother and I made it," he replied, and I noticed Romano and Spain talking. Spain was grinning, and Romano was blushing but still trying to look tough. To my amusement (and to my delight, because I am still unholy spamano trash), Spain grinned and hugged him around the waist, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Big brother and Big brother Spain get along well, don't they?"

"Yep," I nodded. Speaking of getting along... "Where's Germa-oh there he is," I cut myself off when the blonde appeared and glared at Italy, but with no real heat in his eyes. He wasn't shirtless, (un)fortunately, but considering the water soaking the white (and already fitted) tank top, he might as well have been.

"What have I told you about running away?" He frowned at Feliciano, his accent coming out a bit thicker, probably due to all the running. The smaller nation grinned and attached himself to Ludwig's arm. _Aw, isn't this nice? So much couple-ness happening. _Speaking of couples. "_Sorella, _who was that boy with you and big brother France?"

I shrugged. "He accidentally hit me with a ball earlier, so he came to apologise," I explained, as Spain and Romano joined the group. "Then he asked me out." They stared at me silently for a few more seconds, and then Romano made an impatient _go on _gesture. "And then Feli dragged me away before I could respond. Which was good, because I don't know what I would have said. Probably no. Maybe, I don't know!"

Spain cocked his head to the side curiously. "Why not yes?"

"Because I've never dated anyone before," I sighed. "The guys I know would never ask because they know me too well, and I don't really put myself in any situation where I could attract a guy. Besides," I shuddered. "Eric would hate it." And now, so would America and maybe Russia. Or maybe Russia just had it out for this guy. "I should probably get back to him, just in case he's still there."

When I returned, Prussia and Francis were talking amongst themselves. James was gone, which was sort of a relief, until I sat down and they both turned to me with large, Cheshire cat grins. "Okay, what did you both do?" I asked warily, looking between them.

Prussia laughed, and France's grin got wider. "Why, ma chere, we got you a date on Friday!"

For a moment, I didn't think I'd heard them right, except that Eric chose that time to appear and he confirmed that I had indeed heard them perfectly. "YOU WHAT?!"

* * *

**Translations**

**Techniquement, vous faites ****les coups de soleil** \- (French) Technically, you do sunburn

**Il vous aime** \- (French) He likes you

**Quoi? Non** \- (French) What? No

**Il vient par présenter des excuses comme une bonne personne **\- (French) He just came by to apologize like a good person

**Une bonne personne? Bien sûr. Je sais attraction quand je la vois, ma chérie, et je vois ici** \- (French) A good person? Of course. I know attraction when I see it, my dear, and I'm seeing it here.**  
**


	13. Grecian Dates

**This chapter was written in the 3rd person instead of the 1st, so just keep that in mind. I own nothing except Allie and Eric and the plot. Thank you to everyone who read this story and reviewed it! **

**Also, short chapter is short.  
**

**Grecian Dates**

"What the fuck is this?" Allie and Romano glared at the icy condensation on the windows. "It was warm yesterday! What is this shit?" He waved his arms to indicate what they both meant.

England arched an eyebrow at the two of them over the top of the newspaper he was reading. "You both do realise that it is nearing the end of September, don't you?" His eyes returned to the print. "Honestly, I'm surprised it isn't colder."

"But the sun's still out!" She whined, turning her ire on the glowing yellow orb in the sky that was half covered by grey clouds and yet still didn't seem ti be doing anything to warm up the earth like it was supposed to. "Do your fucking job you giant heat circle!"

"Screaming at the sun won't help, love."

"Well shit, I've tried everything," she sighed and turned around to bury her face in Romano's chest. He took a bite of the tomato in his hand, and she peered up at it. "How many of those have you eaten? I'm not leaving the house to go shopping now that it's like -6 degrees or something!"

"It's 14 ºC Allie," Arthur sighed.

She blinked at him. "The hell does that translate to?" Opting not to go into a detailed explanation of the Celsius vs. Fahrenheit debate, and therefore escalate the situation to another civil war (luckily America was nowhere in the vicinity), England sighed again and chose to return to the paper without answering. "At any rate, I suppose it's time for me to begin preparations for hibernation."

"What?" She had already run up the stairs. There was the sound of a door opening, and then slamming shut, and then she returned with a fluffy pink and blue blanket, which she used to wrap around herself as she curled up on the couch until she was a human sized cocoon of soft fabric. Francis and Prussia walked in just a moment later, and paused when they spotted it.

"What is she doing?" Gilbert asked.

"Hibernating, I believe."

"Well that won't do," Francis tutted, sitting down on the couch. "She has a date tonight." There was a muffled sound of general discontent from the cocoon, and he patted the lump he assumed was her head. Honestly, it could have been her butt, who knows. "Come on, _Cherie_, you should get ready."

There was some wriggling, and then her face appeared at the end facing him surrounded by a mass of messy brown hair. Huh, so it hadn't been her butt. "Fight me," she hissed, and then disappeared again.

Eric, Russia and America walked in next. "What is that?" Alfred asked.

"Allie," the other countries replied.

"Allie hates being cold," Eric explained, poking the blanket and receiving a hiss for his trouble. "She's going to be this way until February. She'll perk up in time for Halloween, Christmas, and New Year, and that's about it."

Russia hummed, and cocked his head to the side. "I can understand her hatred. The snow can be unforgiving and cruel to people."

A brown hand stuck out of the blanket and pointed at Ivan. "He gets it!" And then disappeared again. "I'm not going anywhere in this goddamn weather."

"Really?" Eric arched an eyebrow. "Not even to school?"

"Schools are a political tactic designed to fill our minds with only the things the government want us to know and retain, while simultaneously pushing us towards pre-determined goals set out for us by society based on our gender and our appearances, and consequently chipping at our sense of individuality until we are all cardboard cut out workers with no trace of dreams we once held as children."

"Goddammit Allie!"

Francis sighed, and leaned over to talk into where he assumed her ear was. "_S'il vous plaît__, __ma cherie__. _Think about it, _tu ne__voulez pas qu'il__semble__comme si tu__lui__levé__, pensez-vous?_"

Silence, and then there was grumbling as her head and shoulders appeared. "I hate that I am such a nice person."

"Now Allie, mom and dad taught us not to tell lies."

"Shut the hell up Eric," she grunted. "I will go, but only to tell him that I am not interested at all, and that he should never listen to sketchy, pretty men he meets on the beach."

Francis preened. "You think I'm pretty?"

England levelled him with a glare. "That is beside the point, frog."

"I guess I should at least get changed," she sighed as the two began to argue behind her, staring mournfully down at her comfy, over-sized Ravenclaw shirt and black shorts. "Lemme just-"

Before she could begin to wriggle out fully from her beautiful cocoon of warmth, the doorbell rang. Odd, they weren't expecting anyone, unless it was _OH GOD NO_. "Say, weren't you just here yesterday?" Eric asked as he signed for the large crate behind the mailman, as well as the smaller crate beside it. "Allie, we have another one! How many are there for god's sake?!"

"I don't know! It depends on whether or not we're only getting the Axis/Allies, or if they plan to add the Nordics, the Baltics, the younger not-quite countries, the chibi versions..." she kept talking as she searched for and found the toolbox, and made her way back to the crate. "Honestly, I have no idea. We could get all of them for all I know. Someone lift me, I am too short for this!" Pale hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her until she was level with the top of the crate. "Thank you Prussia."

"_Bitteschön._"

"You people are way too casual with my sister."

"I'm sorry, Eric, did you want to do this?" Prussia turned to glance at Eric, then he smirked and winked. "I didn't think so. Stop flirting with my brother Gilbert, he is small and delicate like a fucking daffodil!"

"I am literally taller than you."

"No one cares Eric! And hold me still!" Allie knocked out the nails holding down the cover of the larger crate, and grabbed the manual with one hand once she was done.

"So?" Eric asked. "Who is it? This one better not be a creep, we already have too many."

There was a chorus of _heys! _from a few of the units, which were ignored. "This is...Greece!" _Oooh, Greece!_ She had a soft spot for the sleep country. She also knew that Greek men were apparently more sexual than even the French, which was not something she was willing to tell Eric. She flipped open the unit as Prussia lowered her to the floor. "Age, height, something about his dick, blah blah blah okay, how to wake him up! Let's see...national anthem...other units...HOLY SHIT, CATS!"

Eric facepalmed. "Oh no."

She promptly tackled the smaller crate, and pulled out three small KITTY units. One was white, one had tiger stripes, and the other was small and dark brown with white spots. "Holy shit, these are beautiful."

"Allie, you say that about every cat you meet."

"BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL BALLS OF FUR OKAY?" She activated the fluffy cats and proceeded to cuddle them, almost forgetting about her original reason for opening the crate in the first place. "Oh...right..." she placed two of the cats into the crate and waited. And waited.

About five minutes passed before there was a grunt from within the crate, and a person appeared with all three cats hanging off his shoulders. Heracles Karpusi, he had shaggy brown hair and sleepy green eyes. His skin was deliciously tanned, and he was wearing a slightly loose white top and brown pants.

He yawned, and blinked down at her, his eyes going to the cat in her hands. "Kitty..." he tilted his head to the side and lifted his eyes to Allie's. "You like cats?"

"Yep! I love cats!"

"Huh..." he smiled slowly, softly. Eric blinked at the man. He seemed a little out of it, but he didn't seem at all dangerous. Maybe this would work out better than he expected. "I'm tired. We should sleep together."

_I'VE CHANGED MY MIND, THIS GUY IS WORSE THAN FRANCE!_ "Sure, I'm down!"

"Dammit Allie!" He yelled. "Stop sharing beds with the _male _units!"

"So I can share beds with the female ones? We should get Hungary. I wonder if I can ask for Hungary, she's awesome!"

Prussia smirked in her direction. "She is pretty awesome, but not as awesome as me!"

"Whatever helps your ego," she rolled her eyes, and then yelped when Greece climbed out of the box and leaned his full weight on her shoulders. "Whoa, what the-!?"

"I like you. Sleep with me."

Eric's screams could be heard by the whole neighbourhood.

* * *

**Translations**

**S'il vous plaît, ma cherie**_** -** _(French) Please, my dear

**Tu nevoulez pas qu'ilsemblecomme si tuluilevé, pensez-vous?** \- (French) You don't want it to seem as though you stood him up, do you?

**Bitteschön **\- (German) You're welcome


	14. The Date

**Hi everyone! Um...I have no excuse. **

**I own nothing!**

**The Date**

After Eric was done freaking out about Greece, France (un)subtly reminded me about my date. Apparently he had already ransacked my closet and set out the clothes he deemed acceptable on my bed, and I would have been mad at that incredible breach of privacy had his selection not been incredibly fashionable.

I told him as much, and he just grinned smugly. "_Merci._"

I changed into the clothes: a red cropped sweater top, a white high-waisted pencil skirt, black knee length socks over sheer black tights, and then black boots – in record time, and partly ignored Eric freaking behind me while Italy brushed out my hair.

"I should give you a talk, right?" He was pacing up and down my bedroom and babbling. "Shit, you've never gone out on a date! I didn't even think you liked boys!"

"I swear to god Eric..."

"What? It's true! The last time you had a crush, you were like _twelve_!" He pressed his lips together as he continued to think.

Italy ran his fingers through the thick curls, and smiled at my reflection in the mirror. "It's okay if _sorella _likes girls," he told me. "When I was little, I liked a boy. And I like Germany very much!"

Eric gaped at him, while I cooed and turned to pinch Italy's cheeks. "Aww, thank you Feli! I'm sure Germany likes you very much as well!" He giggled and hid his blushing face in my hair.

"That's really beautiful and all," my brother said, staring at us. "But that doesn't help me much! Should I give a brotherly speech or just...just...don't do anything stupid with him, okay?"

I laughed and nodded, patting Feli on the cheeks. "Psh, you know me! I'll be fine! I just have one request."

**No One's POV**

"She said we couldn't follow her," Eric told the rest of the units downstairs, and there was a collective groan of disappointment. America sadly put away the trench coat and sunglasses he'd been holding.

"Don't groan like I did something terrible!" Allie rolled her eyes as she grabbed her handbag. "I should be home in about an hour or so. The only people allowed to cook here are France, Italy, Romano and Spain. If anything goes wrong, call me! I do not need to get home and find the house on fire because someone got adventurous! Looking at you, Gilbert!"

"I'm so offended right now," the albino pretended to pout, and then he grinned and sidled over. "Because you're still awesome, I'll give you these!"

Allie stared at the packet he had slipped into her hand. "Why do you have condoms?"

He never got the chance to answer, because he was tackled away from her by Eric a split second later. Both went down in a flurry of white hair and loud swearing, and the girl stared after them with wide eyes. England sighed and took the condoms from her with a wince. "How boorish," he sniffed, tossing them...elsewhere. "I highly doubt you'll need those. Do be safe though." She lifted her head like a cat so that he could pat her.

"If he tries anything, just kick the _stronzo_ in the balls," Romano suggested tactically.

"I can beat him to a bloody mess with my pipe," Russia offered kindly, holding up said pipe for good measure.

Allie giggled in spite of the horrified expression on everyone else's face, and reached up to pat the tall Russian on the cheek. The boots made it easier for her to reach. "Hopefully nothing will happen, and I'll be back pretty quickly. It's not like I'm looking for a relationship anyway! Well," she hiked her bag higher up her arm and walked over to the door. "I'm going. No one do anything stupid while I'm gone!"

America waved me off with a wide grin. "Have fun, sidekick!"

* * *

oOo

* * *

**Allie's POV**

I arrived at the site of the 'date' – a nearby Olive Garden – a few minutes earlier than we were supposed to meet, and spotted my 'date' standing outside the building and looking slightly nervous. I sighed internally, and tried to tell myself to calm down. Even if I wasn't interested in anyone at all, meeting people on my own is still a bit nerve-wracking for me.

At any rate, he looked as worried as I felt so at least we were both feeling the awkwardness.

I gathered myself, pasted on my friendliest smile, and walked over to him. The low click of my heels must have drawn his attention because he looked up and quickly caught sight of me. If it was possible, he looked even more nervous. "Hey!" I greeted once I was close enough.

"Allie, hi!" He replied, running a hand through his black hair. "You look nice..."

"Aw, thank you!" I giggled. "You look good too," I returned the compliment with a more natural smile this time, and saw him relax a smidge. For a moment, he didn't move, and then I arched an eyebrow and glanced at the restaurant. "So, are we...?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" He flushed beneath his tanned skin, and we walked into the restaurant. We were seated quickly since the place wasn't too crowded, and a basket of breadsticks was placed in front of us. A waiter took our order – mine was a fettuccine alfredo and he had the chicken and shrimp carbonara – and then there was awkward silence.

We avoided eye contact across the table for a few seconds, him pretending to find the tablecloth, floor, and ceiling incredibly interesting. I fiddled with a breadstick for a moment, and finally looked up at him.

"So...how do you feel about the Captain America: Civil War trailer?"

* * *

oOo

* * *

"_Don't do anything stupid,_ she said," Eric muttered to himself. "_I'll only be gone for an hour,_ that can't _possibly _be enough time for everything to go to hell, and yet!" He glared at the units sitting on the couch looking shamefaced. Behind him, Germany and Spain were putting out what had been a huge fire, while France and the Italian brothers were cleaning up the mess.

On the couch were America, England, and Prussia, covered in soot and minor burn marks. England looked sulky, while the other two looked far too excited for people who had narrowly avoided blowing up half the house.

The Englishman huffed and glared at them. "None of this would have happened if both of you hadn't insisted on adding to my recipe!"

"I think I made it better, honestly," America grinned.

"You nearly killed us all!"

"Your food would have killed us anyway!" Prussia stated, throwing an arm around Alfred's shoulders. "We just saved us the agony!"

Eric sighed as Arthur spluttered and sulked even more, mumbling about how _at least Allie appreciates my cooking_. He turned around when Germany walked out of the kitchen. "How does it look in there?" He asked.

"Not as bad as I'd expected," he replied, stripping off his outer shirt as he spoke so he was just in a white vest. Feli stuck his head through the door to ogle, and France appeared just a second later. Eric stifled his next sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. _The amount of gay in this house..._ "You will need a new oven though."

"Great..." he drew out the out the word wryly. Even though they were twins, Allie was the housemaster, mistress, whatever. She was in charge of what went in and out, and what went where and when within the house. "Now what am I going to tell Allie when she gets home?"

"That you need a new oven?" France suggested dryly, smirking at the exasperated look directed at him. "When is _mon lapin _coming back?"

"Yeah," America piped up. "Do you think the date's going well?"

The door flew open immediately, and Allie stepped in. "I'm back, and I brought breadsticks!" She announced. "Oh, and I also brought James home too," she nodded behind her to the boy at her side who had one arm over her shoulder. The girl froze in the door, and then sighed. "What the absolute fuck happened here?"

"...well..."

America recounted the long and slightly convoluted tale – with help from Prussia, and several angry (and sometimes profanity-laced) corrections from England and Romano – that led to the oven and part of the kitchen catching fire. "...and so we may need a new oven and cooking equipment," he finished. "By the way, why did you bring him home?" Alfred stared at the guy standing behind her.

"Don't try to change the subject," she pinched the bridge of her nose in a near perfect imitation of her brother. "Honestly, I bring someone home for the first time and this is what happens?"

James, who had been quiet throughout, finally spoke. "So is this a regular thing or...?"

"God I hope not," Allie replied. Just then, Greece ambled into the room, probably drawn by her voice. He ignored the other occupants of the room, the smell of smoke and burnt cloth, and even the newcomer, and draped himself over her in an affectionate approximation of a hug.

He yawned into her hair. "Welcome back."

"...don't look at me like that James!" Allie said in response to the stare she could practically feel.

"Wait, you still haven't answered me sidekick!" Alfred whined. "Why is he here? Did you guys...?"

"Was I right?" France walked over, grinning widely and excitedly at them. James blushed faintly and looked away. "I was, wasn't I? I told you so, _mon lapin_!"

She sighed and patted Greece on the head. "Not exactly," she grinned. At his confused expression, she rolled her eyes. "James didn't ask me out because he liked me, not that he really asked me out in the first place. He asked me out because he liked _you._"

"Not seriously," the boy hastened to add as though to put the blonde at ease. "More aesthetically. You're very good-looking."

Silence, and then Prussia blinked. "So...you're gay?"

"Bi, actually," he corrected easily, with a smile of his own.

More silence, and France actually looked like he was blushing with delight, until England snorted loudly. "You poor boy."


	15. Living Together

**Hey, sorry for taking forever to update this!**

**Living Together**

Eric liked to consider himself a loving and caring sibling. He was supportive of his sister's weird hobbies, didn't question her every time he saw her hanging around a boy (apart from some basic teasing because that was just mandatory), he even let her paint his nails occasionally because heck, he was comfortable with his masculinity (but not that often because it was always a pain to get off later).

But this was getting just a tad bit ridiculous. "Allie, why is James on your lap?" He sighed the next morning over his mug of coffee. "Also, why is he in our house at," he glanced at the plastic clock hanging above the stove on the wall. "10 a.m.?"

"Because he lives just a street down and Prussia let him in," she replied from behind the boy's shoulder. Although the two were just an inch apart in height, James was wider than she was, and definitely weighed more. Still, Allie bore his weight like he was a very large puppy that had decided to crawl onto her lap.

And he knew how his sister felt about dogs.

About the same way she felt about cats, which was why there was one balanced on her head mewing at him. Eric sighed again. He was doing that a lot lately.

He turned around and stared at the pouting figure of America. "What's with you?"

The pout grew more pronounced. "He's stealing all my sidekick's attention!" The hero whined, and Eric sighed again.

"_Bonjour mes cheris!_"

Another sigh, although France's presence was enough to rouse James from Allie's lap as the boy sauntered over to the blonde for some casual, playfully flirtatious banter. Prussia snickered at them, occasionally making gagging motions. "Hey, you're not making James a part of your weird gang!" Allie called over.

Prussia snickered and threw an arm around the boy. "Nah, we're the Bad Touch Trio for a reason! He can be our mascot though!"

"I thought I was your mascot!"

James stuck his tongue out at her smugly. "You've been replaced, so suck it!"

"I'm so fucking offended right now? Get out of my house."

"No! I live here now! And I want breakfast!"

"Starve!"

"Why is there so much yelling?" Germany snapped as he walking in through the front door. He had gone for a run, and his accent sounded slightly thicker from exertion. Allie saw James' eyes widen and his lips part in appreciation.

She sighed and threw a spoon at him. "James, darling, your gay is showing."

He yelped quietly when the spoon connected with his arm, and shot her a snooty glare. "Excuse you, but my bisexual ass has always been this way. I'd bang anyone in this room!"

"That better not include my brother."

"It definitely includes your brother," he winked at Eric, who sighed, and poured himself another cup of coffee. He then turned to Romano and grinned, which made the Italian glare at him over his own cup of coffee. "I'm still hungry. Why did I come here so early if you're not even going to feed me?"

"_Starve,_" she repeated again, just as Italy wandered into the kitchen dressed in an oversized shirt and nothing else. That shirt clearly wasn't his. In fact, Allie had seen that shirt before...on Germany. Yesterday. "Feli..." she started, over the sudden silence that had descended over the room. The only sounds audible were Germany and Romano slowly choking in the background.

"Ve~?" He blinked at her blearily, before beaming at the cat on her head. "_Gato!_" He hopped over to her and began petting both the cat and her hair.

Yep, this was _definitely_ Germany's shirt. "Feli, why are you wearing Ludwig's shirt?"

He blinked down at himself as though he'd just noticed his state of dress. "Ve~, I like wearing Germany's clothes! They're big and warm, and they smell nice just like him!"

The sounds of choking grew worse, and there was a noticeable thump that was ignored. "Tell me, _petit_," France grinned widely. "Where _did_ you get his shirt?"

Italy cocked his head slightly to the side as though wondering why we were all so interested in this. "Ve~, he lets me sleep with him at ni-!" Before he could finish, Germany clapped a hand over his mouth, apparently done with his choking fit. He then threw the smaller country over his shoulder and left the kitchen hurriedly.

His retreat was followed by string of loud curses from Romano, the least of which included something that sounded like _son of a whore_. "I'm going to fucking _castrate _that fucking potato bastard!"

_Awww, you really do care! _"Don't be so worried Lovi!" Spain wrapped an arm around the incensed Italian and placed an omelette in front of him. "I made tomato omelettes, your favourite~!"

"When did he make omelettes?" James wondered quietly.

"Why didn't we get any?" Allie wondered as well. The two watched the Italian scowl, face flushed red even as he began to eat the omelette with a ridiculously pleased Spaniard watching him happily.

Alfred tilted his head to the side. "So does this mean Antonio's cooking or nah? Because we need to decide before Artie comes down."

"I heard that you bloody wanker!" England snapped, walking into the kitchen. "My food is not that bad! Allie liked it!"

Alfred, who had noticeably perked up when Arthur walked into the room, smiled teasingly. "You probably burned off her tastebuds!"

"I did no such thing!"

Eric watched the proceedings over his mug of coffee. "Am I the only straight person here?" He wondered aloud.

"You're the token straight character," Allie nodded sagely, patting his hand. The cat meowed. "It's like you're in a sitcom, only with more diversity and representation! On a totally different note, is someone going to cook or not? Because Eric's drunk like an entire jug and I'm worried the caffeine is going to burn a hole through his stomach."

"I don't think that's scientifically possible-"

"A HOLE!"

Spain ended up cooking more omelettes, the best Allie, James, and Eric had ever eaten, and then the house emptied in increments as most of the units headed for the jobs, and the aforementioned three headed to classes (Allie) or sports meetings (Eric had soccer and James had volleyball, which made Allie think of Haikyuu).

Matthew walked her to her classes, Kuma held in his arms as they talked. "Okay, how about this one? Hey, did it hurt?"

He arched an eyebrow at her in amusement. She'd noticed that he was actually very snarky and his sense of humour was similar to her own. "When what?" He replied.

"When you fell from heaven?" She made finger guns at him and grinned cheesily.

"...are you calling me Satan?"

"Well damn, I wasn't but if the shoes fits-!" She squealed when he bopped her on the head and giggled. "Okay, okay! You try one! Weren't you raised by France for a while? Come on, make me swoon!"

Matthew thought for a moment. "If anything I say can and will be held against me, then may I only say your name?"

I blinked at him several times, and then looked away quickly. "That _was_ smooth as fuck, wow, if I was paler I'd probably be blushing." My brows furrowed slightly, and I stared up at him. "Wait, aren't those lyrics from a Fall Out Boy?"

"Yes."

"...my love for you has grown exponentially, good job!"


	16. ChatLog 1

**I swear I had a plot for this**

**ChatLog #1**

_**AllieCat has joined the groupchat MarukaiteChikyuuSUCKIT**_

**AllieCat: **Why tf do I have 20 missed calls from Francis?

**AllieCat: **What the hell did you guys do?

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA: **lol I had nothing to do with this

**GilbertTHEAWESOME: **LIES

**GilbertTHEAWESOME: **U TRIED TO POISON THE AWESOME ME

**KingArthur: **FOR THE LAST TIME, MY FOOD IS NOT POISONOUS

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA: **WE ARE IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM

**AllieCat: **Istg why are you all like this?

**GilbertTHEAWESOME: **Idk what ur talking about I am a pure and precious cinnamon roll who has done nothing wrong ever

**ViveLaFrance:** *sinnamon roll

**King Arthur:** LOOK WHO'S FUCKING TALKING

**ViveLaFrance: **AT LEAST MY FOOD ISN'T A WEAPON OF CHEMIAL WARFARE

**EricTheViking: **I regret everything

**EricTheViking: **Also how is Gilbert texting from the ER?

**AllieCat: **Magic

_**KingArthur**_** has changed his username to **_**YerAWizardArtie**_

**EricTheViking: **Wtf?

**ViveLaFrance: **America stole his phone

**YerAWizardArtie: **I love Alfred sooooo much

**YerAWizardArtie: **Alfred is the best!1!11!

**EricTheViking: **Regret x10

**GilbertTHEAWESOME:** ^same

_**James_Barnes has joined the chat**_

**James_Barnes: **^same

**James_Barnes: **Idk what we're talking about it just seemed like the right answer

**AllieCat:** CHANGE YOUR USERNAME RN

**AllieCat:** I HAVEN'T SEEN CIVIL WAR YET AND YOU'RE MAKING ME FEEL BAD

_**James_Barnes**_** has changed his username to **_**Your_Fave_is_Problematic**_

**EricTheViking:** U really are

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **RUDE

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic:** I AM A FUCKING DELIGHT I DID NOT COME HERE FOR THIS

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **FRANCE BACK M E UP ON THIS

**ViveLaFrance: **I would ma petit but Gilbert suddenly got tangled in the IV tube

**ViveLaFrance: **Brb

**EricTheViking:** Has America given Arthur his phone back yet?

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA: **NOT UNTIL HE ADMITS THAT I'M THE HERO

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA**: AND THAT HE LOVES ME BEST

**AllieCat:** Wow so much UST

**SweetPureedTomatoChild: **Why the fuck did I let u program my username?

**AllieCat: **Because you love me dearly obviously

**SweetPureedTomatoChild: **...

**SweetPureedTomatoChild: **...anyway

**AllieCat:** OMG

**AllieCat:** I'M SO OFFENDED?

_**SweetPureedTomatoChild**_** has changed their username to **_**RomanoV.**_

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **Boooooring

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **Where's the other Tomato Child(TM)?

**RomanoV.: **Probably cuddling with the fucking potato bastard

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA**: Wow Romano

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA**: All these flavours and u choose to be so salty

**RomanoV.: **All these flavours and u choose to be a fucking idiot

**RomanoV.: **Don't you have an English dick to harass?

**EricTheViking:** This chat went from 0 to a 100 so quick

_**GilbertTHEAWESOME has changed the groupchat name to SALT AND VINEGAR**_

_**MOTHERFUCKINUSA has changed the groupchat name to THE FUCKING RED SEA**_

_**EricTheViking has changed the groupchat name to Could You All Please Stop Fucking Changing the Name?**_

_**Your_Fave_is_Problematic has changed the groupchat name to KISS MY ENTIRE ASS**_

_**AllieCat has changed the groupchat name to Disappointment(**__**TM)**_

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **That seems fair

**EricTheViking: I hate every single one of you**

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA: **That also seems fair

**AllieCat:** America give England back his phone

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA: **BUT HE HASN'T TOLD ME HE LOVES ME YET!

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **America bby control ur thirst

**AllieCat:** Says the thirstiest person I know

**AllieCat:** Right after Francis *kiss emoticon*

**ViveLaFrance:** *kiss emoticon*

**RomanoV.:** Ew

**AllieCat: **Where is Antonio?

**AllieCat:** We need some Wholesome Spanish Goodness(TM) to dilute the Salt(TM)

**EricTheViking:** What is it with you and this?

**AllieCat:** I'm claiming everything so now u have to pay me for using these words

**AllieCat:** Trust me I am a lawyerman

**AllieCat:** *lawyerwoman

**YerAWizardArtie:** I don't think that's how the law works Allie

**AllieCat:** Wow u come back and the first thing you do is disagree with me wth Arthur I thought we had something special?

_**YerAWizardArtie has changed their username to KingArthur**_

**KingArthur: **You have my sympathies

**AllieCat:** SYMPATHY ISN'T GOING TO FIX MY BROKEN HEART

**AllieCat:** I HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT WONDERFUL TO U ALL

**RomanoV.:** I'm sorry did u say something?

**AllieCat: **This chat is so toxic I aM LEAVING

**KingArthur: **Alfred is sulking behind me, he's been muttering non-stop

**AllieCat: **...

**EricTheViking: **Oh no

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **...

**EricTheViking: **Oh god no

**AllieCat: **AFTER THE WAR I WENT BACK TO NEW YORK

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **A-AFTER THE WAR I WENT BACK TO NEW YORK

**AllieCat:** I FINISHED UP MY STUDIES AND I PRACTICED LAW

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic:** I PRACTICED LAW, BURR WORKED NEXT DOOR

**ViveLaFrance:** Wtf?

**AllieCat:** EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR AMERICA'S FAVOURITE FIGHTING FRENCHMAN

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **LAFAYETTE MOTHERFUCKERS

**EricTheViking:** Great, now she's going to be singing Hamilton musical numbers for the next week

**AllieCat:** U THOUGHT I WAS OVER IT LOL BITCH U THOUGHT

**AllieCat:** WHAT'S YOUR NAME MAN?

**MOTHERFUCKINUSA:** ALEXANDER HAMILTON

_**EricTheViking has left the groupchat**_

**KingArthur:** I feel like this chat has deviated too from its original intention and we were all helpless to stop it

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **As long as I'm alive you never have to feel so helpleeeessss

_**KingArthur has left the groupchat**_

_**RomanoV has left the groupchat**_

**AllieCat: **Rude

**AllieCat:** Oh shit, I forgot

**AllieCat:** On a scale of 1 to 10 how dead is Gilbert?

**AllieCat: **1 being okay and 10 being Dumbledore in the HBP?

**ViveLaFrance: **...that is an awful method of measurement ma cherie

**Your_Fave_is_Problematic: **Wow Allie take my username u are the problematic one

**AllieCat:** This entire chat is so toxic I'M DELETING


	17. UST and Brownies

**I'm back with another chapter of IDSUFT. I hope you all enjoy!**

**UST and Brownies**

Romance was very much not Allie's thing, but she was always excited when she saw it happening to her friends. As the generally calm, focused person in most of her friendships, she was always there to impart wisdom in her typically blunt manner. All those dumb YA romance novels had to be good something.

At this very moment, Alfred continued to have very little chill regarding Arthur. When he wasn't bugging the smaller Englishman to notice him, he was whining to Allie about Arthur not noticing him.

"All I did was steal his newspaper for a minute," he sulked, his head twisted to the side on her lap. "He just looked so weird and cute in those old-man clothes he always wears! I don't know why he got so mad. I was just kidding!"

Allie hummed, feeling very much like a romance therapist as she stroked his hair. "Did you tell him why you did that?"

"Yeah!" Alfred frowned and sulked harder. "He just got angrier."

"Well…maybe you just need to do things Arthur would like?" She suggested. "Flowers are always a good choice."

Alfred perked up immediately. "Yeah, flowers! Artie loves flowers! I'm gonna get him the biggest bouquet I can find!"

"I was thinking more of something more understates but yeah, okay." Alfred had already rolled off the couch and thrown open the front door. Allie called after him, "Make sure you don't insult him while you're giving them to him!"

Francis walked in just as Alfred hurriedly slammed the door behind him. He blinked bemusedly. "What is his hurry?"

Allie shrugged and pulled her legs up onto the couch to cross them. "He wants to get flowers for Arthur."

"Ah," Francis nodded sagely. "Another lover's spat?"

"Yep," she sighed, and shifted slightly when he came to sit down next to her. "Speaking of lovers and spats, where is Antonio? Is he harassing Lovino again?"

The Frenchman snickered. "It can hardly be called harassment when he likes it so much."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to be responsible for when his darling Lovi kicks him in the balls because he's too much of an angry tomato and can't deal with emotions. Which, same." Allie sighed happily when Francis began threading his fingers through her dark curls, and slowly untangling them. "What about Ludwig and Feli?"

"Last I saw, Ludwig was outside training, and Feli was being reduced to a puddle. I cannot say I blame him."

"Gilbert?"

"Mooning after my little Matthew."

"Honestly, there is so much UST inside this house," she rolled her eyes. "It needs to be diffused, asap. None of you guys have any chill when it comes to your crushes!"

Francis made a mildly affronted noise. "I do have – as you Americans call it – chill when it comes to my love interests."

"France, you don't have a love interest."

The door then flew open, revealing a grinning James. "Francis!"

"Darling!"

"_Ack!_" Allie yelped as she was very nearly toppled off the couch by the happy Frenchman in his bid to reach James. The two embraced in what looked like a perfect recreation of every overdone romantic chick-flick. "No chill!" Allie yelled at them once she'd righted herself. "Absolutely no chill! Francis, I thought we were doing my hair? Now one side is smooth and the other side looks like I just slept on it!"

He raised his head and gave her an unimpressed stare. "You did just sleep on it."

"…I didn't get this much backtalk when it was just me and Eric."

"Allie, there's a sweaty, muscular German working out in your yard," James informed her from where his face was smushed against Francis' neck. "Your house is like Valhalla for anyone attracted to guys. I want to move in."

"Sure. Rent is $300 a month, and the WiFi is shit." She threw her arms up in the air, and walked off. "Go make out on a couch or something! Honestly, there needs to be way less sass in this house!"

As she turned a corner, she almost bumped into Ivan, who didn't seem to be doing much. He looked deep in thought. "Oh, подсолнух! I did not see you. Вы очень малы. You are very small."

"I am very small. It's part of my charm." She nodded, and then clapped her hands together. "Oh yeah, I wanted to do something for you! Show you something! Whatever! Tomorrow, after school, you should come get me, okay?"

Ivan nodded, looking puzzled but also fairly pleased and slightly bashful. "Thank you, подсолнух. I will see you then?"

"Definitely!" She grinned, and then made her way into the kitchen where the sweet smell of chocolate and baked goods was emanating from. Matthew was leaning against the counter, his thin, oversized red and white jumper rolled up to expose his hands and wrists. There was a half-eaten brownie in one hand.

He smiled slowly when he saw her. "Hey."

"I thought Gilbert was here? Oooh brownies!" Allie beamed and reached for the tray of cooling treats. "Can I have one?"

Matthew's eyes shifted slightly. "Uh...that depends..."

Her eyes narrowed, hand still hovering over the chocolate goodness. "On what?"

"On how you feel about hallucinogenic substances."

"..."

"..."

"…Matthew, darling, did you bake weed into these brownies?"

"..."

"MATTHEW!"

"I plead the fifth?"

"YOU PLEAD FOR YOUR GODDAMN LIFE MATTHEW WILLIAMS! WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY IS THERE WEED IN THE BROWNIES?!"

"Why are you yelling about weed?!" Eric walked into the kitchen then. "Oooh, brownies!" His sister smacked his hand away before he could grab one. "Ow! _What?_" She glared at him pointedly, and he glanced between her, Canada's shifty expression, and the inconspicuous tray of brownies on the table. Eventually, the penny dropped. "Oh...what the fuck? Where did you even get weed?"

Canada shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "Places...? Besides, they're fine! You just shouldn't…eat a lot of them…?"

Allie waved her arms wildly. "I AIN'T RUNNING NO GODDAMN DRUG CARTEL UP IN HERE! GET RID OF THEM! DON'T MAKE ME BRING OUT MY STEREOTYPICAL SASSY BLACK WOMAN VOICE!"

"Can't we just eat them?" Canada pouted. "It's brownies!"

"Canada, Matthew, darling, love of my life," Allie placed a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know if you've realised this, but weed is very much illegal, and I don't want you to go to jail. Mostly because it would be supremely awkward trying to bail you out, only for the police to realise that you don't exist except in a weirdly popular Japanese webcomic." She thought about it for an extra second. "Also because bail is expensive. Tell you what: if you can eat these in the next half hour, I won't burn them."

They both watched Matthew as he hurried away with his stash, and Eric arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure we should be burning weed-filled brownies?"

"We have to hide all evidence. Haven't you seen the movies? DRUGS ARE BAD! I DO NOT SUPPORT THIS!" She directed those last statements in the direction Matthew had gone.

"Right..." Eric nodded slowly. "Well, I have to go…not be in the middle of what might be a crime scene. Bye."

* * *

подсолнух - (Russian) sunflower

Вы очень малы - (Russian) You are very small


	18. Is This an Ecchi Anime or What

**This was going to be longer, but honestly I just wanted to picture my Hetalia OTPs in dumb, awkward positions. Warning for sexual positions and situations, but nothing explicit.**

**Is This an Ecchi Anime or What?**

Allie had decided that today was going to go down as _that one day half the countries started acting like characters in ecchi animes. _Not that she'd seen many ecchi animes, save that one weird one about demons, but she had watched anime, and she knew the tropes well enough to recognise them even though logic dictated that these situations should really not be able to occur in real life.

_Well I also shouldn't be able to live with characters from an anime in the first place,_ she thought to herself. _Anime Logic must have carried over. _Still it was supremely weird to see all the countries that were considered ukes/bottoms/subs by the majority of the fandom get into the strangest positions, and seemingly by accident.

It started innocently enough that morning; it was Saturday, and Allie had yawned all down the stairs with her hair in a mess, and tucked comfortably in Alfred's arms because the concept of stairs was suddenly too much to even bear at 9 in the morning. The hero had gone jogging earlier that day, likely because Arthur had passed an offhand comment about him getting pudgy, though during a later conversation with Allie he had blushingly confessed that he liked the American with that layer of softness over the hard muscle. Then he'd spluttered, screamed something suitably tsundere-ish, and stormed off in a huff.

Eric was sipping a mug of coffee and, judging by his bleary expression, this was only his second. Feli and Romano were downstairs as well, and the former was stirring what looked like an omelette, while the latter was conversing quietly with England. It turned out they had both bonded over being complete tsunderes and judgemental individuals and, like a lot of great friendships, theirs was based on them being salty about everyone.

It was making Spain rather jealous, but Allie wasn't about to interfere, at least not until he started sharpening his halberd. Speaking of which, she should really get rid of that…

"Morning everyone," she yawned as Alfred put her down on one of the kitchen chairs, and then swiped a piece of toast from Arthur's plate. The back door swung open, and Germany stepped inside panting quietly. He was damp with sweat, his normally slick hair had become dishevelled, and he looked like he could model for Men's Health; honestly, it was getting ridiculous how attractive these units were. Anime was one thing, but come on.

As soon as he spotted him, Feli immediately switched off the burner and leaped at him as though they weren't sharing the same bed every night. "Germany!"

"Italia, wait-!" There was a crash as the two went down in a heap. "Feliciano, I told you to-"

There was a loud pause as every eye in the kitchen went to the couple and their position. Italy was sitting on top of Germany, legs splayed wide and straddling his thighs; his shirt had ridden up, and Germany's hands were planted on his bare waist. The German was frozen with shock, as was everyone apparently. _….what even…?_

Before anyone could comment on anything, Romano grabbed the nearest utensil – which, quite worryingly, happened to be a bread knife – and waved it threateningly at Ludwig. "You damned German, let go of my brother you piece of shit or I'll cut your dick off and feed it to you!"

"Ve~, but _fratello_, Ludwig's really comfortable!" Feli shifted to make himself even more comfortable, and Ludwig visibly winced.

"_Get off him Feliciano or I swear I will kick your ass to fucking Rome!_"

France aand Gilbert snickered quietly to themselves, and Eric barely looked up from his mug to groan, "It's too early in the morning for this kind of shit."

"…Germany is there something in your pocket?"

* * *

oOo

* * *

The next incident occurred later with Arthur and Alfred. The two were in the front room watching TV, or at least the TV was on to some sport's channel – a closer glance showed that it was American football – and Alfred was rambling about it to Arthur, who looked vaguely confused by the rules. Allie couldn't blame him since sports weren't really her thing either.

The confusion was probably also because American football, and English football (i.e. soccer) were two very different sports. Allie could also relate to this, because her dad had been raised with the British curriculum, so she'd grown up hearing both English and American terms for the exact same thing. It got a bit muddled at times. "I don't understand why you even watch this," Arthur commented. "It's just a bunch of sweaty Neanderthals butting heads and losing teeth."

America gasped. "Dude, it's an _epic _game!" He disagreed, holding the remote out of reach.

"I'm losing brain cells just watching it. Give me the remote America."

"Hell no! I had it first!"

"You had it-? Honestly, are you a child? Give it to me!"

Allie sipped her juice and watched quietly as the two wrestled on the couch, until Alfred appeared to lose his grip and toppled on top of England in an incredibly compromising position. His face was buried in England's chest – the buttons of his shirt had come loose during their match – and his hips were pressed flush against England's. To make it worse, unlike Germany he didn't seem embarrassed at all, or prepared to move. "Iggy, dude, you smell really good!"

"G-Get off me you oaf!" His face was bright red, and Arthur tried to squirm away from the warm breaths of air puffing against the skin of his neck. The way his was bucking to throw Alfred off did look especially lewd from Allie's position behind the couch. She averted her gaze. "And don't call me that!"

"No way babe!" At that moment, the front door opened and James walked in, cheery smile in place.

"'Sup nerds!" Then he paused and stared at Alfred and England on the couch, the state of Arthur's shirt, his red face, and Alfred's position. "I feel like I'm interrupting something."

"Don't question it James," Allie patted his shoulder, just as Eric came in and was also witness to the spectacle.

"What is going on here-? NO, NOT THE COUCH, WE USE THAT COUCH, THERE WILL BE NO SEX ON THAT COUCH!"

* * *

oOo

* * *

"…so you say they're being thrown into weirdly sexual positions?" James asked.

"So it would seem," Allie replied.

The boy nodded, and then he glanced briefly at France and lowered his voice slightly, "so do you think this is limited to just them or nah…?"

The Frenchman chuckled and smirked at James sweetly, causing the younger boy to squeak and blush an uncharacteristic shade of pink. "_Mon petit_, you don't have to go through all that trouble to get close to me."

At James's starstruck expression, both Allie and Eric pulled matching faces. "Ew, don't flirt in front of me, it's gross."

"Why do you hate love?" James had already crawled into France's arms. "Did someone break your heart? Are you nursing an old hurt from some old flame who left you cold and alone?"

The dark-skinned girl stared at him blankly. "How many trashy romance novels have you been reading recently? Anyway," she rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying, twice is a coincidence, but if it happens a third time I'll just have to assume we're cursed."

Francis snorted with amusement. "Cursed with what? Sexual positions?"

"I don't know, maybe? We might be haunted. How old is this house? Honestly that might be a great fanfic. Someone should write that."

"_No_, no they _shouldn't_," Eric rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "Because we're not cursed, and this _is _a coincidence. Feli is always clumsy, and Alfred has always had zero chill around Arthur. There is no magical ghost or curse trying to force them together."

The second he finished speaking however, there was a loud crash from the kitchen, and they peered into the room to Spain underneath a blushing Romano. Well, underneath his ass, because from their position in the doorway, it kind of looked like Antonio was in prime face-sitting position and, judging by the look in his eyes, he was about 70% prepared to go for it.

Allie immediately covered James's eyes, while Eric facepalmed, and muttered to himself, "how would you even fall and end up in that position?" France on the other hand looked like he was about to choke trying to keep his laughter silent.

"So uh…" James spoke aloud, "…who wants to call ghostbusters?"

**It me. The magical force is me.**


	19. Living Together Part II

**Living Together Part II**

Eric called a house meeting that evening in the living room. Though everyone was confused, they all gathered together, including James who hadn't left and who had essentially become a part of the family through sheer constant proximity. There was a whiteboard set up in front of the room, and Allie wasn't sure where it had come from. She didn't even know they had one.

Once everyone was settled on the couches and floor, and most of the bickering about space, seating, and not wanting to be perched on someone else's lap for any given period of time had died down, he cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. "Okay!" Her brother smacked the whiteboard, on which the word RULES had been scrawled on in what looked like fancy calligraphy, courtesy of Feliciano. "In light of recent events, I've decided to lay down some ground rules! Rule one: No swearing."

"What the fuck? That's fucking bullshit!"

"Oi, watch it Tomato Boy! There are children present!" Eric pointed at him threateningly with the ruler, and then slapped the whiteboard again. "Rule two: No one gets to cook anything without Allie's say-so! The exceptions are anyone from Europe, and Canada but only if it's pancakes. There will be no drugs in this goddamn house or so help me!"

"If you expect me to eat that frog's food-!"

Eric interrupted England, "Rule three! And this is the most important rule! I cannot _stress _how _important_ this rule is to me!" Eric eyes everyone present sternly, and then slapped the board again for the final time. "No sex!"

The room erupted into arguments and groans, until Eric screamed, "SHUT UP! ONE AT A TIME! Francis, put your hands down. James, you too." The two lowered their hands with matching expressions of disappointment, but other hands were still up. Eric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gilbert, that includes you as well. In fact, no one from the BTT can ask questions!" A second later Spain lowered his hand. "Anyone else?" Allie raised her hand slowly, and he glared at her. "You're practically sexless. And why are you eating an apple? You hate apples."

"I think the word you're looking for is asexual," Allie took another bite of the apple she'd been chomping on. "And you're right! I do hate apples! That aside though," she took another bite, "How about we just make it: no sex in public domains. That means anywhere other than your designated bedrooms and private spaces."

James sighed loudly and flopped over onto Francis much like Greece had done to her. "Well damn, there goes my dream of kitchen sex."

There were general groans of _ew _and _dude, we eat there_. Eric looked vaguely ill, but mostly done with everything. "Yes. Tragic. Don't you have your own kitchen to have sex in?"

"_Oui_, but our counter is fairly sturdy," Francis commented.

"…" There was a long and pregnant pause during which everyone stared at Francis and James, and then Allie broke the silence by taking a ginormous and incredibly crunchy bite from her apple. Finally Germany pressed his lips together, and then exhaled quietly while staring at the ceiling. "Alright, if that's all that needs to be said and if everyone is in agreement, then I suggest we end this train-wreck of a conversation right now. All in favour?"

Allie had never seen all the countries agree so quickly and so uniformly on one thing. Feli dragged Germany off chattering excitedly in a rapid mix of Italian and English. Spain trailed after Romano while cooing endearments entirely in Spanish. Alfred casually threw Arthur over his shoulder and walked off cheerfully while the Englishman screeched and pounded on his back with a bright red face, and Russia just plodded out of the room, humming quietly to himself.

Now the only people still present in the room were Eric, James, Francis, Gilbert, Canada, Allie, and Greece who was still napping on her shoulder. He didn't seem at all disturbed by her loud crunching. Gilbert pulled a can of beer from his jacket and popped it open loudly. He took a swig, and then belched loudly. "I can't believe you would limit the awesome me and my awesome five meters!"

"Yes. Truly we have deprived the world of something incredible. How awful," Eric said dryly. Then he frowned. "Is that my beer?"

Gilbert blinked at him as he innocently took another sip, and then the albino smirked and winked. "You're cute when you get cranky."

"I'm out." They watched Eric walk out of the room without a look back.

Allie snickered quietly at Gilbert's disgruntled expression. "My brother's straight Gilbert. Confident in his masculinity and sexuality, but straight. You will have no luck with him."

"What about you then?" He turned his grin on her.

"Didn't you hear her earlier?" James piped up from Francis's lap – honestly that had become like his permanent seating place. The Frenchman had his chin resting on his shoulder. "She's ace. Asexual. Allie doesn't feel attracted to anyone."

"I'm not aromantic though," she added quickly, seeing the befuddled expression on France's face – being the country of love and all. "Not that there's anything wrong with people who are, but I can still have romantic feelings for people."

No one said anything for a while. Greece snored quietly. Allie took another loud bite of the apple. Matthew blinked at her. "Seriously, how long have you been eating that apple?"

**Tbh I hate apples. They are amongst my least favourite fruits to eat, but if I see an apple I will eat it and maybe it's because the media has conditioned me to associate apples with healthy living and it's one of the few fruits that isn't considered phallic ( or whatever the opposite of phallic is). **

**Sorry for the shorter than usual chapter! I promise to make the next one longer!**


	20. Thanksgiving at the Clare's

**Yes I am a week late, but honestly idk what the fuck thanksgiving is. American TV tells me it's that day when families get together and there's at least one racist relative and someone flips the table so the turkey goes to waste and I will fight anyone who does that because dude…food wastage tho…**

**EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that I fucked up Eric's gf's name so...I'm fixing that...**

**Thanksgiving at the Clare's**

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

Allie blinked lowered the book in her hand to look at America. He looked so excited and expectant, so she wasn't exactly sure how to tell him that she and Eric didn't really do thanksgiving.

"We don't really do thanksgiving," she said out loud, and then winced when he immediately proceeded to look utterly shocked and crushed.

"What?" He looked like he was going to clamber over the couch but he couldn't because Greece was napping on top of her. "Why not? You're American! It's an American tradition!"

Eric walked into the room at that moment, a sandwich in hand. "Are we talking about Thanksgiving and how we don't celebrate it?" Alfred nodded, lips drawn in a petulant frown. "Alfred, we're not actually American."

"…what?"

Allie lowered her book even more, and placed it page-down on Greece's back. "We are American by birth, but our parents are Kenyan. Dual citizenship yo. We've lived in America since we were like 12 though, but our family's never done the whole American lifestyle, so no thanksgiving dinners. Which sucks because I love turkey."

"You have literally never eaten turkey before in your life."

"I like chicken. What's the difference?"

"That's what you said about the goat cheese mom brought home that one time!"

"Okay that cheese was gross and everyone agreed!"

America's eyes darted between the two of them, before interrupting. "Does that mean we can't celebrate thanksgiving?"

The two siblings stopped arguing and Allie considered it. She was always down for anything that meant food, and it could be fun. They had this house to themselves, and they could invite James and Eric could invite that girl he was seeing (she wasn't sure who she was because Eric barely talked about his girlfriends and he rarely ever brought them home)!

"Yeah, we could actually have thanksgiving! It'll be fun! As long as no one burns anything," she patted Greece on the head to wake him up and rolled out from under him. "Muster the rest of the units! We need to plan this! Someone Google what people do on thanksgiving because all my experience is from TV and if someone throws the turkey at anyone I may kill a man."

* * *

oOo

* * *

An hour later, jobs have been meted out. America, Russia, England and Allie were on shopping duty because the fridge wasn't full of nearly enough food for a Thanksgiving dinner party. Allie was fairly certain she store has a no piggy-back ride policy for anyone over the age of 10, but fuck the rules, tall Russian men were comfortable as heck. Plus, the security didn't bother her on account of the tall Russian man.

Alfred was being incredibly focused on what went into their shopping basket, even vetoing the mashed potato mix and boxes of instant gravy. France would have been proud, she was certain.

France, Spain, the Italy Brothers and Germany are on cooking duty, with America interfering as an uninvited but excitable guide because this is an American holiday so they have to adhere to the rules otherwise they're doing it _wrong_. The menu was mainly full of the typical thanksgiving fare (according to Google anyway) like mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, macaroni and cheese, pumpkin pie, and the turkey, but there's also a hodgepodge mix of other foods as well.

Spain was muddling the apples and cranberries together for the sangria while waiting for Francis and Matthew to finish with the gratin so that he can commandeer the admittedly too small stove prepare the Catalan spinach. Allie insisted that he make two batches: one alcoholic, and one not for people like her who liked not getting drunk. Feli and Lovino worked well together in spite of the latter's constant sniping, and Feli was stirring the pumpkin soup while Lovino started on the tiramisu. Alfred had complained that tiramisu wasn't _thanksgiving _enough, which had prompted the Italian to fling the spoon at his head.

James was being unhelpful and appearing only to beg Francis for a taste of whatever he was cooking. Allie grabbed him by the neck when he went for the gravy again. "James you massive waste of space, are you going to help or not?"

"I'm helping!" he protested. "I'm helping by letting you know that you're doing a great job. A+ cuisine right here. The mac and cheese could do with a little more cheese, but that's just my opinion."

"I swear James – Gilbert!"

He froze with the forkful of macaroni and cheese already in his mouth. "What?" He spoke around it, trying to look innocent. "Huh, he's right, this could do with more cheese Franny!"

"Don't be a backseat chef," the Frenchman glared at them with no real heat in his eyes. "No one likes a backseat anything."

"Get out of the kitchen or I swear I will dropkick the two of you!"

Both Gilbert and James gave her matching expressions of disbelief. "Allie, I love you and all, but you're like 5 ft and weigh like 100 pounds at _most_. You couldn't dropkick a dandelion."

"IS THAT A FUCKING CHALLENGE!?"

"Christ, do you have to antagonise her?" England scowled from where he was washing the dishes in preparation for the food. He was annoyed that he wasn't allowed to cook, but not as annoyed at the celebration as Allie had expected him to be.

The door clicked and swung open, and they heard Eric's voice, "I'm back!" punctuated by the click of high heels. He stepped into the kitchen closely followed by a tall girl with silky brown hair that fell over one shoulder in lush curls, hazel eyes, and flawless brown skin. There was a beauty spot on her neck. "You guys, this is Maria. Maria, this is my sister and her…friends."

"Nice to meet you!" Allie skipped over and held out her hand for a handshake. Maria took it with a friendly smile, and Allie hoped that she wouldn't be awful like the others because at some point she was going to force Maria to give her makeup tips.

England smiled charmingly at her. "It's lovely you meet you. Allie, come help me set the table."

The table wasn't big enough for everyone, but they made up for it by dragging in chairs from other rooms. Eric found a flower-patterned tablecloth that their mom had given them when they moved out and draped it over the table. Ivan brought in an armful of the few sunflowers still blooming this late in the year, and Allie arranged them in a vase on the table. By the time the food started arriving, everything looked gorgeous.

Everyone took a seat, with Eric sitting next to Maria who was sitting next to Allie who was next to James. America was nearly squirming with excitement. "We should go around the table and say what we're all thankful for! Allie, you go first!"

She blinked, surprised at suddenly being put on the spot. "Uh…well then I'm thankful for my grades, for my parents, and for my brother. I'm also really thankful that I met all of you because I've had a lot of fun with you guys. Not you though," she turned to James who was sitting next to her. "You suck."

"Fuck you too Allie."

"You wish. Nah, I'm kidding, I'm thankful I met you James, even if you do steal food from our house."

James snickered. "Okay, me next. I'm thankful that I was playing soccer and I nearly gave you concussion because otherwise we may never have gone on that one date and I would never have met the love of my life, Francis-"

"This isn't a fucking wedding speech," Romano interrupted, and then he blushed when Maria giggled on the other side of the table.

"Rude. Anyway, I am grateful that Allie and I are friends, and I get to be here with you guys stealing food!"

One by one they all went round the table saying what they were all grateful for until everyone had spoken, which took a while because there were a lot of them. Feliciano went last, and he was grateful for a lot of things; meeting Allie and Eric, his job, all the fun they'd had, Ludwig, Ludwig's muscles, Ludwig's di-

"OKAY, WOW THAT WAS ENGLIGHTENING AND SWEET LET'S EAT."

Eric carved the turkey and soon dishes were being passed around. Allie loaded her plate with mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey, and mac and cheese. "Can you eat all that?" Maria asked her, looking curious and impressed.

"Yeah, I eat a lot," Allie replied. "Especially when there's a lot of food to eat."

"You're just a greedy black hole," Eric snorted, and Maria smacked his shoulder with a grin. "What? She is!"

"Shut up, I wish I could eat that much, but I don't think my body could handle it," she turned back to Allie, who had just taken a mouthful of buttery mashed potatoes. "You look really good for someone who eats like that."

"Thanks!" James rolled his eyes at the three of them, and she was tempted to shove his head into the mashed potatoes. Then she remembered how long it had taken to cook it all, and then considered smashing his face into the table. "So, how do you know my brother?"

"We're work partners," Maria explained, taking a dainty bite of her food. She ate so cleanly, her food carefully partitioned into neat little islands. Allie glanced down at her plate and was almost embarrassed. Almost. Food was delicious and life was too short to deny yourself extra helpings when you wanted them.

"Maria's new so I'm helping her out," Eric explained. "That's how we became friends."

"I'm glad Eric invited me over though," Maria smiled sweetly at Allie, the kohl outlining her eyes making the hazel pop. "We don't celebrate thanksgiving either, but I can never pass up an opportunity to eat even if I have to up my workout routine the next day."

"Well it's definitely working out for you," Eric said in a vaguely lovesick voice that had Allie arching an eyebrows.

Maria giggled flirtatiously. "Oh you!"

Now both eyebrows were up, and she exchanged looks with James and Romano like _are you seeing this shit? _The Italian scoffed quietly from across the table. "This is the grossest thing I have ever seen."

"I think it's sweet," Antonio disagreed, smiling goofily, and Allie could almost see Eric's skin doing its best to visibly blush.

"It's gross," Romano repeated, rolling his eyes.

"You really must open your heart to love, Romano," Francis sighed, making eyes at James across the table, and Allie was certain that there was probably something in the water because all this love and sexual tension was threatening to kill her little shipping heart. "Someone pass the salt."

"Okay!" Alfred promptly picked Romano up like he was about to toss him across the table at the Frenchman.

"PUT ME DOWN YOU BASTARD!"

"ALFRED MON DIEU, DON'T YOU DARE!"

"I SWEAR IF ANY OF THIS FOOD GOES TO WASTE I WILL GO HANNIBAL LECTER ON ALL OF YOU!"


End file.
